RedEyes: Wanderer
by Sneer
Summary: A young blacksmith travels to Mordor as MiddleEarth prepares for war.Isengard,urukhai,orcs WARNING:SLASH!FANON!LOTSOFFANON!dear God, do u no what i made? EMO GARY STEW!
1. Corsairs of Umbar

**Red-Eyes:**

**Wanderer**

* * *

**_Book One:_**

**_Prolong_**

The day was hot and bright.

It was still early in the day but already it was very hot.

A few clouds could be seen against the bright blue sky but never seemed to pass over the burning sun that beat down upon the ocean water, warming it.

The water was clear and through it could be seen the curved blades of the great battering ram that lay at the belly of one the _Corsairs of Umbar_, as it cut through the ocean water in easy speed.

The water turned as it was hit again and again by the steady rhythm of the oars.

Wind filled the black sails that were once the pride of Gondor's navy, now speed towards the shores of Poros River, filled with various villains and outlaws who sought glory in the promised war to come.

One of these such outlaws sat on the deck, in the chair in front of one of the many iron framed crossbows, meant to fire harpoons ans grappling hooks at enemy ships, or what have you.

Tan hands, rapped in white linen to the knuckles, vigorously wrote down notes in a small black leather book, the size of his hand.

His small black boots rested against the iron frame of the cross bow.

He leaned back in his chair with ease, tilting it back to rest on its hind legs. Yet he kept his shoulders square, retaining a dignified poster.

This some times got him trouble, certain people taking offence to his proud posturing, assuming it came from arrogance. Which it did.

Either way, it got him into less trouble than huddling over like a frighted child, inviting others to take advantage of him.

Especially since he still very much resembled a child despite the fact that he was sixteen years of age.

The brown jacket, which stopped just below his hips, protected his slim tan muscles from the baking sun.

His hair was black and messy, sticking up to somewhat reassemble a flame. This was done intentionally.

Despite the jacket, he wore no shirt, leaving his well muscled abbes and torso, open to the sun.

Faded black trousers fell just below his hips.

His only decorations were the necklace made from the fangs and claws of different beast and a bracelet of the same fashion, but with small, wooden carvings of animals, and ivory beads, around his wrist.

His ears were pierced but at the moment he wore no earnings, save for a gold ear cuffs on each ear.

His smooth, doll like features were hardened by concentration.

The deep red iris of his eyes focused on the task in front of him. He muttered to himself. He smirked for no apparent reason.

He opened his mouth in a grin to reveal four sharp canines. One might even call them incisors.

"There." He said in a deep, steady voice that made him sound much older than his looks allowed, carrying a tone of wicked humor.

He reviewed what he hade written down. A rough pencil drawing of one of the oars of the Corsair.

"Oi, Nameless. Whatcha got there mate? Huh?" Roach asked from behind him. He had heard him approach but had been to busy to acknowledge his presence.

"Come on boyo, you can show 'our Roich. Lets have us a peek?" He nagged in his strange accent, developed from listening to the many different accent around the world, in his travels with the Corsairs of Umbar.

Roach was probable one of the most cunning of the crew, but he was a little odd and perhaps insane.

The one called Nameless raised his hand to Roach's face, showing him the book in his hand but not what was written in it.

He wrapped the book in a handkerchief and placed it in a small pocket over his heart, inside his jacket. The pencil he had been using followed it.

"Oi! Nameless!" hollered a new voice. The two looked to another crew member who had come up from below.

"You better 'urry on and gets some grub lad. Once your ashore, it's straight to Mordor with ye, and ye may not get another decent meal for some time my Nameless lad."

"I've already eaten. I don't want to start my hike to the Black Gate on a full stomach." Replied Nameless.

Nameless was the nick name they had given. It suite him well. When he had approached the captain of the Corsairs, Captain Crow, he had given him no name or any hint of his past. Only that he was a wanted man who needed a way to get from one place to the next, looking for work and to improve his trade as a blacksmith. They had provided him transportation for nearly five and a half years now.

"Well, the captain's been looking for ye, 'e 'as. Says he would like a word with ye, lad, that 'e did."

Message delivered, the crew man went back below deck.

Nameless sighed. Now what did he want!

He had come aboard the arrogant little punk that was only allowed to come because he worked and paid to ride. And to some he still was, but the captain had taken a liking to him and had tried to become something of a uncle to him. In a sick untrusting way. Nameless suspected the captain didn't want Nameless to leave. Nameless had proven handy in the dirty trades the crew of the Corsairs took part in.

Nameless got up from his seat and headed towards the railing of the ship, leaning against it. He looked down to the many oars of the Corsair and scowled. He turned his back to the ocean, placing his elbows on the railing.

Roach came up beside him with a frown. Land was already in sight. Nameless would be leaving soon. Roach was disappointed. He liked Nameless. He'd be bored without him.

Roach looked down and saw the oars at work, being endlessly rowed on and on by more than 250 slaves.

"There it is." Roach started."Middle-Earth. I've never been meself. 'Ave you? You've been everywhere else."

"No. This is my first time here as well."

"I heard the dwarves there are the best miners and blacksmith in the world. You should have fun there. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from them, ne?"

"I'd be surprised to see any Dwarves in Mordor. They're a Proud race. Only certain less moral Dwarves have had any contact with Orcs since the _Goblin Wars. _In any case, I hear most of them have been wiped out by the Orcs, so I'd be surprised to see any Dwarves at all, let alone behind the Black Gate."

"Well tha' sucks. So why' d you take this job anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

Roach turned his back to the rail as well and placed his elbows on it as Nameless had. "I mean do you have any particular reason for goin'?"

"No."

"So then why are you going? There are others out there who are willing to pay way more for you, there are."

Nameless looked at Roach wondering if he even realized his pun. Roach looked a bit confused at the look Nameless was giving him, and then it hit him. He blushed and Nameless burst out laughing. Roach tried to look affronted which only made Nameless laugh harder. Soon Roach was laughing too.

Nameless looked up at the sky.

'_Its hot. I'm getting thirsty. There won't be much- correction- any clean water were I'm going. I think I'll indulge myself in the ships clean water supplies. Wait. Am I going to be able to take a bath once I'm in Mordor. Uhg. Maybe I should have thought of that before I excepted. Oh well, it's to late now.'_

Nameless pushed off of the railing and began to walking off.

"'Ey, were you goin'?" asked Roach.

"To see the captain, such as he is." Nameless said over his shoulder as he headed off. "I still need to discus some business with him."

* * *

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdb**

Say what you like about the scum that came aboard the _Corsairs of Umbar_, they new how to do there business, and do it well.

They didn't ask much about you, but you had to have a certain amount of skill to become a part of this crew.

That's why Nameless chose to sail with this lot, despite the dangers.

There were no fools aboard this ship, and they didn't give a damn who you were or where you came from. Just as long as you were doing what you were supposed to be doing, they really didn't care.

Nameless knocked on the thick, wooden door to the captain's cabin.

"Enter!" was the curt reply.

Nameless twisted the door knob and came in. Inside, the wealth and success of the Corsair was evident.

This was not shone in the display of frivolous nick-nacks, but in the simple, and even not so simple, beauty of the items of the room.

It was richly furnish with, chairs, desk, chest, and book shelves lined with books. Some of which looked very old and rare, written in many languages.

Red wine colored, satin curtains were pulled back from the windows, allowing the sunshine in to light up the room.

Maps of various realms and their seas covered the walls, framed in rich and decorative frames. A few paintings were hung up as well in similar frames, but carful not to take away from the paintings beauty.

Captain Crow certainly new how to decorate. It seemed he rather enjoyed it too.

Said captain was currently writing hastily in a book in front of him, on a decorative, oak desk. He looked up the moment he heard the door opened to see who it was. A small smile came to his round, tanned face.

"Ah, my Nameless lad. Good. I'll get to you in a moment, I'm just finishing this. Please, sit." The captain motioned to one of two red velvet and cherry wood chairs in front of his desk, with his right hand, which still held the peacock-feather quill.

"Hn." Nameless smirked a little. In stead he chose to lounge on the couch, in the same style as the chairs, near the left window from were he was standing.

Nameless put his feet up on the left armrest and his head on the other, placing his arms behind his head.

He was carful with his boots on the couch. Didn't need the captain on his case about that again. Not today.

Normally Nameless didn't bother with shoes, settling for linen wraps or saddles if that. He much preferred to go bare foot.

But not today. Today he was going ashore some of the roughest terrain ever.

Yes, it seemed Middle-Earth had the best of everything, including torturous terrain.

The captain finished writing and, taking a moment to blow on the fresh ink, closed the book and set it aside. Now his attention was on the red-eyed boy, laying on his couch.

"So," began Crow," what's this about going to Mordor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you going?"

Nameless sighed. He hardly saw how this was Crow's business, but Crow was the captain, and he needed to know what kind of business he was getting involved in.

"There paying me next to nothing. I'm mainly going for the learning opportunity. The black smithing in Middle-Earth is supposed to be the best in the world. Besides, it's one of the few places on earth that has mythril."

"Aaah, mythril." Crow leaned back in his chair, considering." I've heard tell of it, but never before have I seen it."

"I have. On a job once. Another blacksmith had a small bag full of the stuff, in a powder form. About the size of your thumb. It was...breath taking."

"Mmmm." Crow thought about this a moment before getting back to business. "So, how are you going to get there? And were exactly will you be stationed?"

"I don't know _exactly _were I'll be. Behind the black gate, I'll probable end up hoping from one forge to the next trying to meet my quota. As for how I'm getting there, your supposed to drop me off at Pelagir with your next cargo load. Some of the other mercenaries should already be there waiting. From there, I don't know how yet, we're to travel to Minus Morgaul. And that's the plan thus far."

Crow had gotten up to pull a bottle of white wine from out of a chest he kept near his desk.

"You mentioned a quota. I'll imagine you'll be quite busy. How do you plan to practice your skills if your so busy preparing for the war?"

He fetched two drinking glasses for them. He nodded his head occasionally to show he was still listening.

"I'll manage. Don't concern yourself with my affairs."

Crow got the hint and changed the subject. "So when will you be back aboard?"

"I don't know. This is a war after all. I may die."

Crow pulled the cork out and it made a_ 'THROP'_ sound before it fizzed over the captain's hand. He cleaned it off with a napkin.

"Well lets hope not. Being frank, I've grown quite found of ye lad," He poured a bit into each glass," and might I add, so has certain members of the crew." Crow handed a glass to Nameless, not at all concerned with his age.

"If ye were to run into a bit 'o trouble and be needin'–"

"Stop!"

Nameless glared at the captain, red eyes darkening a deeper red. Again Crow backed off.

"Aye, alright lad. A toast then." Crow raised his glass. "What shall we drink to lad?"

Nameless was silent a moment. Then he raised his glass as well."To freedom."

"Aye. To freedom!"

They swallowed it all in one gulp. It wasn't even noon yet, but by the time they got to shore, nine-tenths of that bottle were gone.

**To Be Continued**

* * *

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbac**

**To the readers of this fic:**

_Most of the character featured in this fic are mine. However, the universe in which these characters are placed come from the imagination of the wonderful Tolkien. God rest his soul._

_I don't read authors notes, unless I want to for whatever reason, and I don't expect any one else to read mine. But I'll just put them here anyways._

_I realize that most OC fics suck. I mean, who reads them. But I thought that if I did a lot of Ocs in the Tolkien universe of the Lord of the Rings, then maybe it would be ok._

_At least that's my hope._

_Also I think I should warn that this fic contains some implied slash. If you don't know what that means, you will eventually._

_Also, there will be violence and strong language. Obviously!_

_Have a problem with it? GO SOMEWHERE ELSE!_

_It's a five dollar fine for whinin' !_

_Extra points to those of you that get the reference._

_But the points don't mean a thing._

_That's right, like a G-string at a nudist beach, it doesn't mean a thing._

_So if your keeping score, then you obviously haven't seen 'Who's Line Is It Anyway'._

_As for reviews, please feel free to critic me, make suggestion, point out flaws, whatever!_

_I am interested in what the readers have to say._

_So please, don't be shy my darlings._

_That said, I bid you ado._

_–Sneere_

_Dec. 19, 2004_


	2. Wierd Orcs

**Red-Eyes:**

**Wanderer**

**Book One:**

**Chapter 1**

Nameless swung his leather knapsackover his right shoulder.

Behind him the crew of the _Corsair of Umbar_ were busy unloading there cargo, as were a few other mercenary ships.

But Nameless didn't stay to help unload the Black ships as he sometimes did. Right now he had to find out were he was going and how, fast! Otherwise he'd be left behind, and going to Mordor alone, was not something he was willing to try if he didn't have to.

He watched as mercenaries from the East and other mercenaries left the other ships.

He waited to see were they went, hoping they new even if he didn't. They all seamed to be relatively heading to the same spot.

He secured his bag in place and headed that way as well, careful not to get to close the orderly ranks of the cruel eastern soldiers, or to get caught up in the mob of wild worriers.

The grown beneath his booted feet had very little grass or any other form of vegetation.

Indeed, it seemed to be almost cringed. Jagged bits of rock and granite lay scattered about the ground. Nameless could see no trees to speak off.

The mercenaries all seamed to be headed away from the ships and toward a old stone building off in the distance.

The black sides of the mountain seemed to be boxing them in, herding them towards the stone tower.

Even standing on his toes, Nameless could not see much of what was ahead, and he cursed his height, Or lack there of.

With a low growls in his throat, Nameless stopped trying to see over the many soldiers.

In stead he continued to keep his distance while marching along with the rest.

Since he could not see much, he tried listening instead. But it was hard to hear with the sound of marching feet, following the beet of a steady drum, while the less organized, wild soldiers talked and complained to each other.

It was then that Nameless heard some one shouting orders to the marching troops, in a accent that he was not to familiar with.

"Get on now. Pick it up, pick it up!"

Without turning his head, he looked to see who it was and was only slightly surprised to see a orc.

When had orcs shown up. It was then that Nameless noticed there were severely other orcs and uruks marching along with them, shouting orders.

"Whatch those feet now! C' mone maggot! Move"

_SWISH! CRACK!_

The sound of a wip.

_Damn! I didn't even realize they were here and now there all around us!_

_Hn, orcs are sneaky, at least some of them, and stealthy in the shadows. I won't forget again._

Nameless marched on, keeping an ear out. He noticed that some of the soldiers were glancing at him. Probably wondering what a child was doing there.

Nameless really didn't care but he didn't want to draw attention, and thus trouble, to himself before he even got to Mordor.

_What should I do?_

_Do? Do nothing you fool! They're not bothering you, there's no reason to do anything._

_Yet._

Done arguing within his own mind, for the time being, Nameless trained his eyes forward and kept marching.

By midday, though one could not tell for it had become as black as night, a large, dark building loomed up in sight.

A green light seemed to glow from within. It was not very bright. Just enough so that the orcs that were not blessed with night vision could see, but not enough to hurt them or the orcs that could see in the dark.

There were many different kinds of orcs and Nameless would have time to learn them all.

Despite his obscured view, Nameless could see the two guardian the entrance to the fort of Minas Morgul, loom over head on their stone mounts, ever watchful.

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdb**

_REEPING! REEPING! PING! REEPING! PING! REEPINGGGGG!_

The last stroke of the hammer caused the ornge hot metal to vibrate, drawing out the sound a little longer than the others.

Nameless paused to inspect the crude, iron blade, that was common for uruk-hia, which he had been working on.

Picking up the crude sword in his lenin wrapped hands, not bothering to be careful, he dunked the glowing sword in the basin behind him, enjoying the sight and sound it made as it was forcibly cooled.

Nameless had changed from his jeans and jacket to a black tank top and sweat pant, held up by a red sash. He wore sandals instead of boots.

Around him the rang the sound of metal being worked into weapons, shields, and armor.

Nameless glanced to his right to see two orc smiths had stopped to watch him when they heard the lasting ring. Realizing they had been caught they hurriedly got back to work. They still had a quota to fill after all. But Nameless was almost done with his.

"Hn."

Nameless turned his attention back to his work.

He would not get much trouble from the orcs here. That's not to say that he wouldn't get any, just not as much as he would anywhere else in Morgul.

Only there less skilled fighters, or most skilled in the trade of black smithing, would be sent to work as blacksmiths. And they were all to busy trying to fill their daily quota to waist any time squabbling or picking fights.

When they had completed there quota was a different matter entirely.

Thankfully though, many of them were exhausted by the time they finished, and were not in the mood to start fights they were to tired to win.

Normally there were no orc smiths, or orc healers, or nothing other than orc fighters. At least in most orc cultures.

Most of them were mainly wild bands of orcs.

They forged their own weapons, clothing, and armor, or else stole them from the dead.

In resent years they had even learned to trade either with other orc cultures or else the easterlings.

But that was before Sauron. Or rather after his first attempt at forming orc armies and just before his second.

From his last defeat though he had learned that if the orcs were to win this for him, they were going to have to move as soldiers. Be trained like them, and equipped like them.

Thus began the education of all orcs.

They had already known how to speak the common tongue of man, that many other races used as well, but now they could read and wright in it to.

This made things easier for the ocrs to understand each other, for each breed of orc had it's own language and sometimes alphabet. They had used the common tongue in speech but still could not understand each others maps, or letters and so forth.

Now each orc was assigned to the job best suited to them.

And here was Nameless, right beside them. Well, more like standing in the back round taking a nap or rolling his eyes at there antics.

Education or no, the orcs were primitive creatures, based on instinct and impulses.

Nameless's stomach rumbled loudly for the second time in the last five minutes.

His stomach had been demanding food of him for sometime now, he did not know how long for he had no means of telling time here were there was no sunlight, but each growl had been louder than the rest. But he had ignored it. Perhaps for to long.

His stomach growled again and the orcs that had been watching him earlier looked up to stare again before quickly returning to the work.

Nameless blushed slightly as yet another growl from his stomach, this time all the orcs within hearing rang of his forge, for the were all rather close together, stopped and looked and the human runt with the noisy stomach.

"By Bolg's head to his feet!" exclaimed one of the orcs. He was one of the orcs from the Brown Lands, as they were called.

Burk, was his name. He worked in the forge more or less to the right of Nameless.

Burk put down his tongs which he had been carring and walked over to Nameless.

"Why not just take a brake, eh?" He asked once he was closer. The other orcs had again returned to their work. "You're almost done for the day anyway. Take a brake, get some grub, then come back and finish. I know your special boy, but you've still gotta eat. C'mon, I'll take it with you. I'm almost done as well."

Nameless looked to his work. He thought a moment. Another growl from his stomach, thankfully a small one this time, made his mind up for him. Nameless looked to Burk, who was smirking.

"Fine! I guess if I have to." He said as if it were a chore.

Burk chuckled. "Right. Lets put 'ese away first now." Burk moved back to his work spot and began tiding up some. Nameless hurriedly did the same.

Together the made there way to the mess hall, were the orcs, uruks, some mercanaries, and whatever else come to lounge and eat and talk.

Nameless took a bite out of the steaming, headless fish, skewered on a sharp stick he had found.

He leaned his back against the stone wall behind him that turned into stairs.

Across from him sat Burk, who also sat against a stone wall, tearing away at some unrecognizable creature. He hadn't bothered to cook it. Most orcs didn't.

To Burk's right was a uruk-hai of Mordor, Lut, who was doing the same as Burk.

To the left of Nameless sat Drum, smoking his pipe, filled with awful smelling tobacco.

Drum was a shaman from Moria, one of the more advanced cultures of orcs.

They were a culture based mostly around their religion.

The orcs of Moria, found him particularly interesting. With his read eyes, sharp nails and canines, and wild black hair that swept up into a almost flame shape, he greatly resembled their god, the Balrog.

Drum looked like the norm for a orc from Moria.

Pale, almost green, smooth skin that seemed stretched across the face. Large eyes for seeing in the dark, and long nostrils for tracking scents. Bow legs and arms with claws for climbing stone. And hair that receded from his forehead, pulled back into a too tight ponytail.

His cloths were black rags with some metal sawn into the fabric to imitate the flame of the Balrog.

He wore some dwarf jewelry and some made from bones. As a religious leader in his breed, he had such luxuries.

Burk was nothing special either. Though he did seem to like piercing a awful lot.

He wore them in his ears, nose, eyebrows, tongue, and now that he was no longer wearing his leather black smith garb, Nameless could see even Burk's nipples were pierced.

Nameless didn't know why Burk had so many piercings, they were just going to get in the way should he find himself in a fight.

But Burk wasn't much of a fighter. He was tall but his muscles were ropy despite his line of work. Because of his work as a black smith, muscles was the only thing that his body seamed made of other than black sweats, boots, and green skin.

Smith's work had made Burk strong, but he was to laid back to compete with his warrior brethren.

No, Lut was the more violent orc here. Pardon, uruk-hai.

Nameless seemed to have a bad habit of making allies with strange people, but then he was a strange person.

Lut was no exception. Lut through back his blond head and took a hug gulp out of his flask. Lut began to choke and Burk clapped one hand over his back. Lut stopped coughing and the resumed eating as had Burk.

Lut's looks weren't so strange, black skin, thin blond hair, squinted eyes, leather jerkin and pants tucked into ragged cloth boots.

No it was more his attitude.

He was loud and crude, but he was also energetic and even a little giddy. This made it seem as though he was disrespectful but Nameless thought he was just hyperactive and maybe a little air headed.

'_Hn, a hyperactive, airheaded uruk-hia. Now that is disturbing.'_

Nameless took a moment to look at Lut. Lut saw this and half smirked, half smiled at Nameless, showing yellow, sharp teeth, the flesh of some pore beast caught between them.

Nameless smirked back.

'_VERY disturbing.'_

Nameless saw Drum shift closer to him from the corner of his eye.

"Tell me young one," Said Drum. He took the pipe from his mouth to speak," why do men fear the number thirteen?"

Ah, more questions. He and Drum have had many conversations on many things. The subject of men and orcs was a gray area. His orc companions had been willing to enlighten Nameless in the ways of orcs in many cultures, but he was rather unable to answer their questions of men, for he never payed much attention to them. Nameless did not understand them any better than they understood him. And neither were very willing to try. Nameless was what you would call anti-social.

"The number thirteen?" Nameless repeated.

Drum nodded. The other two were listening as well. Lut also seemed interested. Burk looked alittle uneasy.

"Your asking me?" Nameless said.

"You'd know better than us." Lut put in.

"I don't know why exactly." Nameless put down the remains of the fish he had finished." Its just some silly, human superstition. Captain Crow and his crew were pretty superstitious. I think the number thirteen is supposed to be bad luck."

"Why? Is it a bad omen?" Asked Drum.

"Maybe. Like I said, I don't really know how it got started. In fact, I don't think Crow did either, but he still avoided it."

Nameless looked to Burk who still seemed uneasy. Burk was scowling at Drum. He didn't like it when the others asked Nameless about the race of men. Perhaps its because it was another reminder that no matter how well he may fit in sometimes, he was still a human. Burk continued to scowl. His gaze shifted to Nameless and then just above him.

Nameless turned around and looked up, Drum did the same.

Above him captain Shagrat was looking down at them. A few orcs and uruks Nameless didn't know were with him. Apparently they too had been listening.

'_Know thy enemy. But am I the enemy? At least to Shagrat? Now that's a suggestive name! I wonder if he's gay? He doesn't look very merry to me. He does stare at me a lot. But so does everyone else, for awhile. What is that look he's giving me?'_

Drum broke the silence. "Captain Shagrat, is there something you need from us? Or have you come for the conversation?"

Shagrat looked to Drum a moment and then the other orcs. His gaze landed on Nameless though, as it usually did.

"Haven't you lot got work that needs doin'? If not I'm sure I can find you some." Shagrat's gaze remained on Nameless.

Nameless remained quite. In all orc cultures, orcs did not ask for help. It would be embarrassing to do so. Almost shameful. Kind of like pissing your pants in public. No, instead orcs hung out with other orcs who they favored to others. These small groups watch over one another, lending a hand, always watchful, so that there comrades would never have to ask for help. So was the case here.

Nameless didn't know how Shagrat felt about him, so he stayed quite and let the others answer for him.

"We is just about done captain." Answered Burk. "Won't take us long to finish, we thought we'd take a break. Get something to eat while the others are schering to catch up. That's all."

"That's all eh?" Asked Shagrat, looking to Burk as if to ask,' Is that really all? Are you quite sure that is all your up to you lying scum? Hmmm? Think carefully now?'

"And what about you two eh?" Shagrat asked, looking to Drum and Lut with... _'what? What is that? Does he think they're_

_being lazy? Playing hooky or something?_'

"All of my squad is on break too captain." Said Lut looking at his bowl, looking like a great big child, that was denying a crime he had committed.

Shagrat looked to Drum.

Drum smiled to himself and lent back against the stone wall behind him, were the captain stood looking down at them.

"All of my boys are either busy or training, they do not need me now." Drum puffed at his pipe.

It seemed to Nameless that Shagrat didn't approve of religious leaders in Minas Morgul. Most likely thought them useless, manipulators. That, or he simply didn't like Drum, for whatever reason.

Shagrat looked back to Nameless, but Nameless had turned his back to the captain and was cleaning his hands off with a handkerchief.

Shagrat snorted, "You two, blacksmiths, hurry up with your break and get back to work. Every bit o' work you miss in yer quota will be taken from your backs, you understand me?"

"Yes captain Shagrat." Burk and Lut said. Drum and Nameless just lounged.

"Good. If not, I will personally see to your punishments." said Shagrat, glaring at Nameless.

But Nameless wasn't looking at him. None the less, he could feel the captain's eyes on him.

Shagrat left then, taking his orcs and uruks with him.

When they were out of sight, Drum spoke up."I think he fancies you boy."

"What?" Asked Nameless, not sure he understood.

"I said, 'I think he fancies you lad.'" Drum smirked. "This is the army after all."

"Oh." Nameless looked to Lut and Burk. "What does that mean?"

"Means he wants you." Said Lut, happy to help.

"I know that! I meant, what does this mean for me? Is there something I should do?"

Lut just shrugged and resumed eating again. Burk was scowling, a lot!

"Pray." Offered Drum, and resumed smoking.

Burk was scowling at his food now. Nameless stopped thinking about it and instead just lent back and relaxed with his orc companions standing by, watching out for each other.

**To Be Continued....**

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdb**

**To the reader of this fic:**

OK, so this chapter didn't really go anywhere. I hate that in a fic! But I needed to familiarize the characters a little.

I promise things will start picking up in the next chapter.

If there is anything you would like to say about this fic, good or bad, please leave it in your review. I am open to suggestions.

Merry Christmas!

Oompa Loompa to you!

–Sneere

Dec. 24, 2004


	3. Lee VS RedEyes

Red-Eyes:

**_Wanderer_**

**Book One:**

**Chapter 3**

Burk had finished eating soon after Shagrat left, so he and Nameless had gone back to the forges to finish their work.

"Boss! BOSS!"

Nameless looked up, not sure if they were addressing him. He recognized the two orcs who had been shouting to them as two of the orcs that worked for him, at the forge.

Nameless waited for the two orcs to come within conversation range. Burk stood to his left, should his human comrade need more concealing in the cultures of orcs. A small smile appeared on Nemeless's face, but he quickly turned it into a mocking sneer.

When the orcs got closer Nameless began to speak in a impatient tone that meant no nonsense. "What?! What is it that's so important you have to come running and screaming before I even come through the door?" The orcs were not hurt by this tone of voice. It was what they would expect from another orc. Burk had taught him that. Not that Nameless needed him to. That was just how Nameless talked.

The orcs did seem a little disturbed though.

Nameless rushed down through the lower levels of Minas Morgul, fallowed by Burk at the two orcs that had informed him earlier. When they finally reached the forges, Nameless slowed down to a swift walk, scowling and slightly frowning.

Normally the orcs would shout out a brief greeting to the master blacksmith that had been sent to teach them good forging skills, but this time they either ignored him, or watched on in silence and fear. From experiences they new a agitated commander, was a dangerous one. Even if it was only a human.

They finally reached the forge at which Nameless had worked at for the last two months. It was much bigger and well equipped that the others, do to his higher rank. _Was_ anyway!

Red paint covered the iron and stone furnaced and molds. His tools had been broken or set into the furnace until they melted. The water basin was tipped over and..._'My Work! My Work is gone! I was almost finished! Were does a whole days worth of work go?!'_

Well, it wasn't all gone. Just enough so that he couldn't possibly make it all up before the end of the day, when their daily work was collected. Where the hell do you hind something likes this!

Burk and the other orcs stood back as Nameless took in the damage done. Nameless didn't have to say anything. It was quite obvious that he was funked! 100 Funked. And _Shagrat the faggot_ was personally going to 'punish' Nameless. And the Easternlings who had done this new it too. Damn them all!

Burk turned on one of the orcs which had approached them with the news. "When did this happen?!"

"Soon after you left. The eastern dogs strolled in 'ere like they owns the place, starts shoving us abouts, headed right for the master's smithy." Answered the orc, Tep, Nameless thoughthis name was.

"And you just let 'em stroll in?! Why not just roll out the welcome matt? Don't want to be rude host now do we?!" Burk yelled.

"We didn't just _let_ them in?!" "Then why didn't you stop them?!"

"Orders sir. Captian Shagrat says we have ta be civil to the foreigners 'cause they're 'elpin' us win this war. Not supposed to be frighten. And that was the only way they was leavin'." Tep answered calmly, but inside he was pissed! Damn them again!

Burk growled. Easterlings and Shagrat. This did not bode well for his Nameless lad, no it did not.

Nameless stood still a moment as the weight of the situation began to sink in. Nameless's clenched hands was the only sign. Burk, who was still arguing with Tep, felt movement behind him. He quickly looked about but Nameless was already gone. Burk growled,"Aaarrrgh! DAAAAAMN!!..."

**

* * *

**

Lee was a mercenary from the eastern lands of Middle-Earth. He and his comrades, as well as many, many other easternlings, had come to fight in honor of the great Lord Sauron, who fought alongside Morgoth, who the easternlings worshiped, against the Valar, at the beginning of Middle-Earth. Sauron had offered them many great riches and land as well as many other things of middle-earth as long as they fought for him and payed him tribute. It was a great honor to fight for him, even if it was along side orcs.

Currently Lee and his comrades sat around a fire, drinking and eating, waiting to be called to battle.

Around them were many tents and in them lay at least two to five easternlings. This area was closed off to orcs, to avoid any unnecessary trouble. Only the easternlings rested here. Of course there were other easternlings lying around Mordor, other than Lee and his comrades, but that wasn't the point!

They had just gotten back at that runt who called himself a master blacksmith and were reveling in the after glow of there deeds.

* * *

Lee's younger brother, Manta, and two of his friends had stood watch at the entrance to the forges. They had waited for the nameless runt to leave, then had rushed back to tell Lee. 

Lee had wasted no time. Gathering five other eastenling, plus his brother and the two, they had strutted in. The orcs paid them no mind, thinking they were there for some repair to their weapons or armor or something like that.

"You there," Lee said to a orc who was talking to another about smothing or another," were is the head blacksmith's forge?" The orc pointed off to his right then resumed his conversation with the other blacksmith.

"How can I tell which one is his?" The orcs again stopped their conversation but this time their attention was fully on Lee and his comrades.After all, why would nine easternlings need to see one blacksmith, even if he was the head blacksmith?

"The boss ain't in now. 'E left not half the hour ago. Come back some other time. Or maybe some one else around 'ere will look at what ever it is you needs takin' care of." Said the orc.

"No, I'm not looking for the head blacksmith, I'm just looking for his forge." That had done it. But before either of the orcs could move, four of his comrades had grabbed the second orc while Manta and another easternling grabbed the orc Lee had been speaking with. Manta twisted the orcs arm into a very uncomfortable position.

"Now blacksmith," Lee said getting close up to the orcs face, not bothered by the smell of him," I know that you have a certain quota that you are required to fill everyday. However," Manta applied more pressure to the shoulder," that may prove difficult with a dislocated, or even broken arm. So, where can I find the forge of the head blacksmith?"

Lee and his comrades had found it easily enough. The swords and armors and spears and every other weapon the boy had made had been placed in four locked and chained iron boxes, ready to be placed on the wagons and delivered to wherever it was they needed to be. They was rectangular, about eight feet long, three feet wide, and two feet high. A easternling pick up a near by coal shovel and broke open the locks. Three were full but one was only half full. They were expected to fill each of these each day. Lee and the other easternlings decided to take one of the full ones.

"Hey! Hey! What do you think your doin'?! That there's the bosses! Get away from there you eastern rats! Get I say!" An orc who had been working close by had shouted at them. At this, many other orcs had turned to see what they were doing. Some of them put down there work and were approaching them. This could easily become a dangerous situation. They may not have been as competitive as their soldier-orc brethren, but they were still violent, primitive orcs, and they would stop everything to fight off any threat they may think exist, orders or no.

The first one to reach them was the one that had shouted at them. Lee took over from here. Lee pushed the orc back with all his might. The orc was sent flying into another orc. "Tep!" the orc that had caught him said.

"This is none of your buisness! Get back to work! You all still have quotas to fill! And if their not done I am personally going to see to the punishment from my friend captain Shagrat." That had sent a hush all around. The orc that had approached them got up and spoke. "We don't answer to Shagrat! We're not soldiers! We're blacksmith. We answer to the head blacksmith!"

This encouraged the orcs some. "Yes but the head blacksmith answers to Shagrat. It wouldn't be to hard for him to get permission to punish a few lazy blacksmiths if he felt the head blacksmith was being to lenient." Lee sneered. That had done it. The orcs began to look about, seeing if anyone had the nerve to step up. The orc who had mouthed off looked like he wanted to say something, but another orc put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Tep," the orc whispered," C'mon!"

Lee smirked. Then his face went stone like. "Lets take one of these and get out of here!"

They had trashed the place then left quickly.

**

* * *

**

"Whoa! Careful now Manta!" Said one of the easternling in their native tongue. Lee looked up to see his younger brother Manta trying to wield one of the heavy uruk-hai swords they had stolen. But Manta, although used to wielding the heavy metal that made up the eastern weapons, he was not used to the width, height, and weight of the orcish weapons. Point proven when Manta tried to swing the heavy weapon and nearly fell backwards. He hoped backwards on one foot while the other eastenlings laughed. He finally lost balance and fell flat on his ass, but managed to keep the weapon straight up and steady. The easternlings laughed harder. Manta growled low. The laughter died down some but they still smirked at Manta. Lee smirked at his little brother who looked slightly abashed.

"Lee, what are we going to do with those weapons? Are we just going to leave them in the grown? With all do respect, that does not seem like a very wise decision." Said Ren, taking the attention off Manta.

"For now. I was thinking that maybe, when we get the chance we'd smuggle them out with the rest when a call to arms go's up. Or maybe get them delivered to another post in Mordor. Untill then we leave them buried."

But he was probably right. They had buried the box and most of it's contents after they had taken what little they could want. Mostly taken out of curiosity. There had been no time to really get a look at any of what they had stolen, so they had just taken a few things to examine and quickly but carefully buried the rest. If they were caught with what they had stolen, it wouldn't be to hard to prove the runts story about the easernlings who had it out for him. Even if Shagrat was a personal friend of Lee's, he would not over look the absence of the much needed weapons. At least not when there was proof to prove the story true. But the chance to 'punish' the red eyed boy, was enough motivation for him to ignore the eye witness testimonies of any orcs or uruks who dare to speak for their 'boss' as they put it. Even if that was the entire smithy!

Lee fidgeted with the spot were his left ear used to be before that brat had torn it off! Didn't even use a knife! Just grabbed hold and pulled!

**

* * *

**

_A week ago..._

**Lee VS. The Red-Eyed Boy**

Lee charged at his sparring parner for the day, Shizuma. They were practicing their swordplay that day. Lee attacked Shizuma's flank but it was blocked. Shizuma counter attacked to Lee's head, and Lee just barely managed to dodge by leaping backwards. Lee rose from his crouch, but did not quite stand up straight, keeping his knees bent. Shizuma did the same. They starred each other down a moment, both panting. They attacked simultaneously!

Shizuma gave a kia that sounded like ,"_ WEEZ!!..." _and aimed for the head.

Lee made a perfect block then countered to the head as well,"_MEN!!.."_

Lee had won the spar.

Shizuma took off his protective head gear as did Lee. The saluted and bowed to each other.

"Thank you for the match." they said together. As they walked off to make room for the next sparring partners that day, Shizuma looked to him with a grin and said in their native tongue," Perfect as always Lee."

"Yes I am." He replied with his own grin. Shizuma chuckled,"I meant your sparring and you know it." "Do I?" "Hmph!" They both grinned.

Lee like sparring with Shizuma because he always had something new for him. Shizuma was one of those people who was always improving. But Lee didn't need to improve his techniques. They were textbook perfect! Everyone said so, and it was true. "Ah, look," Shizuma said looking behind Lee,"here comes your groupies."

Lee looked behind him to see some of his comrades heading towards him, lead by his younger brother. "Shizuma! Watch your tongue. That was disrespectful." But Lee's voice wasn't very stern. "What? Its true. You know it." And Lee did know it. And silently he loved it. A little more than a disciplined soldier should allow himself, but he would not admit that to himself. Lee smiled and welcomed it.

"Great job Lee!" said Manta as the others formed a circle around him. A circle Shizuma was carful to avoid. "You won again. Your movements were perfect! Beautiful even."

"You were watching huh? Have you been practicing as well?"

Ren answered for him. "Yes, and he did very well." Manta grinned.

The next sparring couple was ready to start so Lee and the others sat on the side lines and watched. Lee looked around and saw Shizuma drying the sweat from his long hair. Lee frowned. It looked like Shizuma was talking to someone but Lee couldn't see who. Other easternlings who had come to watch the sparring were blocking his vision of the person, so it just looked like Shizuma was talking to the shadows on the red tent in front of him. For some reason this bothered Lee.

Lee got up to change his angle so he could see who it was Shizuma was talking to.

It looked like Shizuma was talking to a orc! But why? It didn't matter, orcs weren't allowed over here, it was a danger to the peace. Lee moved to go correct this error. Manta noticed, as all siblings are always aware of their siblings whereabouts and what they are doing, as often and as much as they can. Manta got up and followed his brother. Ren and a few others did the same.

Shizuma looked up, sensing Lee coming. He seemed pretty relaxed, as always. Shizuma was pretty laid back, but fought like a wild animal!

"Shizuma!" Lee called." What are you doing? Who is this?" He changed to the common tongue and turned on the orc,"You! Don't you know tha-" Red was his next thought. The creature that moved out from the shadows was not an orc but a human. A human boy, younger than even Manta he suspected. Or at least it looked human, but had red eyes! It was also very small. Not even five feet! He was rather pretty, but also ominous looking! Like a bad omen.

"Well, not that its any of your concern, but I'm here on business with him," He tilted his head towards Shizuma briefly. Lee was surprised at the depth of the mocking, sarcastic voice. The child looked about twelve to fifteen, but his voice had clearly matured.

"What sort of business?" Lee asked.

"Why should I tell you?" The child replied.

"Just who are you?" Lee asked.

"I could ask you the same question?"

"I asked you first."

"So, is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Look, your on my camp-" "Your camp? Look around you, fool! Your in Mordor. Everything here belongs to Sauron." The child crossed his arms over his chest.

How dare he! Arrogant punk! "What is your name?"

"What is yours? Are you a officer here?"

"This is my older brother Lee." said Manta," He is one of the best fighters we have!"

"Hn, still not an officer. Just another grunt."

Arrogant asshole.

The boy walked up to Shizuma. "Here. Its ready. Take care of it. Put it to good use." He said and handed Shizuma a long object wrapped in a black clothe, which he had carried on his back. "I will. Thank you." Shizuma took the object and removed the cloth. It was a katanna! The wood and wax sheath was a royal blue. The wrappings around the handle and the top of the sheath was yellow flecked with blue. Now Shizuma had everyone's attention. He really wasn't sure he liked that, but they were all curios so he indulged them. He pulled the blade from its sheath and held it up so he could admire it. Then a little higher so others could see as well. It was beautiful. The wave in the metal showed it was a fine piece of work. One of the very best. But where the hell did he get the material for it? Mordor was one great big iron mine! Or so Lee had been told.

"Hey, why does Shizuma get the good sword?!" Someone asked rather loudly.

"Because he paid for it." The boy said.

Lee looked at the blade. It was certainly better than the dulling one he had now. And the best worrier should have the best weapon, shouldn't he? Of course. In the eastern parts of Middle-Earth, such good metals were rare. This made good swords almost impossible to make, find, or buy. Lee approached the boy.

"Boy, who made that sword? Was it your master?"

The boy turned his red eyes on Lee but otherwise did not move. "I have no master. I made the sword. I am the head blacksmith here in Minas Morgul."

"You lia! You are only a boy! How could you possibley-?"

The boy just shrugged,"This _is_ Mordor."

Fine! Lee calmed down. "Fine then. How much would it cost to get you to make a sword better than the one you made for Shizuma?"

The boy looked at him ?! How dare he!

"I charged him 3 gold pieces and a silver. For a better one I would charge 5 gold pieces. And I don't haggle!"

"That is a awful lot of money. But I think I can pay it."

"Save your money. I wouldn't make one for you anyway."

"What?! Why not?"

"Because I've seen your sparring. And if you fight like you spar, then I would never put one of my weapons in your incapable hands."

"INCAPABLE!?! What are you talking about?! My technique is perfect! I am the best swordsman here! I am far better than Shizuma!"

"Well, that's a matter of opinion."

Lee's face went stoney. He approached the boy. He bent at the waist to get in the boys face. "What is you name boy?"

"I thought we'd been over this. Your not an officer, I don't have to give you a name. But if you want to tell me yours?"

"It's Lee. My name is Lee." Lee stood up tall."Do you know swordplay?"

"If I do?"

"I would like to challenge you to a sparring match."

The boy smirked. "Hn, I accept. Do you have any practice weapons I may use?"

"Yes, but I'm afraid we don't have any gear in your size."

"That's alright, we won't need it. You don't mind do you?" That was of course against the rules, and Lee would get in trouble if one of the officers caught him, but he was not going to back out. They would resolve this here and now. "Follow me." The boy did and so did everyone else.

Lee and the red eyed boy faced each other on the round arena outlined with white chalk. Neither wore any protective armor. Just sweats and T-shirts. They stared each other down with blank, emotionless masks. They stood six feet away from each other. In there hands each held a wooden sword. Lee had chosen the style which imitated the katanna, while the boy had chosen the one that was similar to the tai-chi style.

Lee got down into a crouch, gripping the katanna firmly but not hard, to make movement easer. The boy held his wooden practice sword in one hand, placed his left foot behind him and bent at the knees. A rather loose stance.

Still cocky. Little brat! How dare he speak so disrespectfully to him! And in public! When this area was reserved for the easternlings, who fought in honor of the dark lord Sauron! Disrespect to the easternlings was disrespect to Lord Sauron! And that was punishable by death!

The boy leapt forward in what was sometimes called 'flunge'(1), still air borne, the boy placed a hand on the grown and pushed off with it. Lee was to shocked to block! The boy slammed his body and the hilt of his wooden sword into Lee's gut. Lee went flying backwards but had the common sense to do a one handed flip and righted himself. The boy was already in Lees face! Lee subconsciously followed the movement of the boys chest and managed to block the blow to his head. Lee countered to the boys head who countered and attacked Lee's head again. They repeated this over and over again, waiting for the other to slip up. They crowed watched on in respectful silence, with the exception of whispers and occasional cheer of encouragement. Lee couldn't understand the cheers but just knowing that he had their support made him feel much better.

The boy was good, not letting up. And the blows were hard. He couldn't possible keep this up. Lee's technique was perfect. They repeated the action for the forth time. The boy was either going to attack his one of sides or faint a attack there and return to the head.

Lee attacked the boy's head, who parried and fainted to Lee's flank, then pulled the weapon up and forward. Lee made a head parry but didn't feel the weapon contact. Instead he felt pain shoot through his neck, but he was to stunned to really pay it any mind. Then he couldn't breath! He almost panicked trying to get air to his lungs. His vision grayed but came back to him. The boy leapt back a foot to give Lee some room to breath.

Lee glared getting angry but quickly pushed his emotions aside. Gotta stay cool. The brat had gone around the parry and struck the crook of his neck! That bastard!

Lee steadied his breathing and took up a stance. The boy did as well, getting more Sirius. This time Lee decided to be more aggressive. The boy certainly was. Perhaps Lee could make him uneasy by putting him on the defensive.

Lee attacked then, lounging at the boy, who parried the blow to his flank but didn't have time to block the one to his left as Lee redoubled. There was an audible '_THRWEACK!!'_. The boy winced and flipped backwards. He was up in an instant and Lee was on him. Lee attacked the legs, the torso, the head, the mid-section, anywhere he could get. The boy had some trouble parrying at first, so Lee strategy had worked for a time but the boy was fast and his parries strong, and soon he was blocking Lee's attacks without a problem. But he couldn't keep this pace up for long. Neither of them could.

Then the boy surprised Lee again buy making a very wide (2)omni-parry. This was not proper fencing! The boy caught Lee's wooden sword in the wide swing, and forced it off to the right. Lee lost his grip with his left hand but held on to the substitute weapon with his right. The red eyed boy hit Lee's wrist with his open palm. The weapon went flying out of the ring. Lee was shocked but had enough sense to leap backwards. But the boy followed him and delivered a kick to Lee's stomach. Lee, who was still air borne from the backwards jump, was sent flying a even higher. The boy leapt up in the air, and delivered a downward cut with the wooden sword. Lee hit the ground half in the ring half out.

The boy landed and came up to Lee's side. Lee tried to get up when the boy kicked him in the side, hard enough to roll him the rest of the way out of the ring. The boy smirked at Lee.

A few moments ago he would have smacked that smirk right off! But he had just gotten his ass handed to him and Lee didn't have enough spirit left to get that angry.

"Your right. Your technique is perfect. Too perfect in fact! You don't leave any room for improvement or to improvise."

Some one yelled in Lee's native langue, "What in Morgoth's name is going on here?!"

The boy looked to see who it was. Lee didn't need to see who it was. He was in trouble now. Lee closed his eyes but stayed where he was. He was tired and humiliated. He wasn't sure what he should do, but he could here Commander Ryoko approaching.

**To Be Continued...**

**

* * *

**

**To the reader of the fic:**

Good lord almighty! This fic turned out a lot longer than I expected!

And the time line! Man, even I don't know how I'm going to work this out but I will do the best I can.

(1) Flunge a flying lunge. Another rather usual, effective, but sloppy move. Like the omni-parry.

(2) Omni-parry a rather unusual move. Basically a wide parry that covers the whole body in a wide circle.

**ATTENTION BETAS!!: **I'm looking for any volunteer betas. So if you know one and would like to help improve this fic, please leave it in your review with you e-mail and I will get back to you.

Again I am open to opinions. It really is a inspiration to receive reviews. Good or bad. Well this thing is too long as it is so I'm just going to cut this short.

I get my info from **_The Lord of the Rings : Weapons and Warfare by Christopher Lee._** But I'm going to manipulate a few things later in this fic.

Later, same bat time, same bat channel.

-Sneere

Dec. 27, 2004


	4. The Easterling Commanders

**Red-Eyes:**

**Wanderer**

**Book One:**

**Chapter 4**

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbac**

Nameless stood and watched as the crowds parted. Someone was shouting, or talking rather loudly it seemed, in a strange laungue. It didn't sound like any form of orchish to him, so it must be the easternling's tongue. Well DUH!

Nameless remained relaxed but watchful. Beside him the easternling called Lee was getting tense.

As the crowds nearest the front parted, Lee finally got up in time to brush himself off. This act was pointless as he already looked like shit.

The person that was yelling came into view, as well as two other figures. At the front stood a proud, muscled woman with long legs, dressed in black,green and silver. Her legs made her taller then the other easternling, save for one behind her. For some reason Nameless was reminded of a scorpion. Like when you meet someone new and you want to call them James or Billy or Sara. Nameless now wanted to say scorpion.

'_What is up with her hair? Is that were she's keeping her baby scorpions?' _(3)

The woman, who seemed to be a officer, wore the silver, scale like armor of the easterlings. It covered her body like a second skin attached to the front and back of her torso, shaped to allow room for her large breast, mid-section, groin, then the from of her upper legs and arms. Under this was simple black jump suit. Over it was a green, silk, knee length jacket, with gold embroideries of two serpent like dragons on both sides of her jacket.

'_Dragons are a female dominate race'_ thought Nameless.

She also wore knee guards and boots that went all the way up her calfs. Her black, sleek, hair was done up in a jewel covered bun, that somewhat resembled a fan. Nameless suspected that if she didn't hide her children in there than at least her knives. Though all her headdresses looked nothing but beautiful and fragile.

Behind her were two rather handsome men. They were similarly dressed as the women, but their armor was made from bronze like the soldiers and their coats were red with the black and gold serpents of the east. The one that was taller than the woman had long hair dyed dark blue. He wore glasses over light brown eyes. Despite this he came off rather rugged. Like a explorer or adventurer.

The other one was the size of a average man and was a pretty boy. Even more so than Lee.

'_This girl must really love her job!'_

"What is going on here?" demanded the woman in common tongue. "Lee?" She looked him up and down."What happened to you?" She frowned.

Lee straighten himself and made a quick bow to her."We were only sparring Mam." He answered in common tongue.

"We?" She looked to Nameless. He smirked back

"And without the protective gear?" She questioned sternly but she was still looking at Nameless. Lee did not respond so the woman continued to stare at Nameless.

"And who is this? You are not a Easternling, andyou are to pretty to be an orc. You must be a soutnron mercenary." She said with a smile. There was no malice in her smile but there was something else.

"No. I came here alone. I am the Head Blacksmith here in Minas Morgul." Nameless said, placing one hand in his pocket and the others holding a wooden sword. La la laaa!(1)

She just smiled accepting this news far better then anyone else had. "And does our Head Blacksmith have a name?"

"No, he doesn't. People just call me 'That Nameless Lad'." He replied deadpan. Her smiled never left her face, instead she seemed to be even more amused.

"And what may I call you?" He asked.

"I am the Easternling Commander Ryoko." She said with pride."Well Mr. Lad-"

"Just say Nameless."

"Very well, Nameless, would you care to explain what happened here? And why my best swordsman looks like he does now?"

"Not really but it seems I have to. As he said, we were sparring."

"Without the protective gear?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware that the full protective gear is required in order for sparring of any kind?"

"Yeah."

"But you chose to ignore this rule. Why?"

"I didn't need it."

"You didn't need it?" Nameless said nothing.

"And you?" Ryoko turned to Lee,"You agreed to these terms?"

Lee swallowed and answered,"Yes Mam."

"Mm-hmm," She stepped back. "Lee! Nameless. I would like the both of you to come with me."

Lee was about to follow but Nameless stayed put.

"Why?!" He questioned.

Ryoko turned to look at them. Lee flinched. "Because I said so." She answered.

"Try again." Nameless smirked.

"One, because I need to make sure your story checks out. Two, I need to report this. And three, I want to hear the full story in privet, with the other officers."

These seemed to make sense and Nameless didn't need more trouble. He could either go with her or fight his way out of here. But then he would have to explain the whole thing to Shagrat, who would no doubt be all over him... Eeeww. And would also, beyond doubt, find some reason to punish him as he had threatened to many times before.

Ryoko turned her back to them and walked off. Nameless and Lee follow, and the two officers brought up the rear.

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdb**

They arrived at a tent that was bigger than the others. It was still the basic colors though. Red with the gold and black serpent.

Ryoko held open the flap and Namless walked in followed by the three other males.

Inside there was a large table with a few maps placed on it, and a few chairs around it or in the corners.

The tent was full of women dressed similar to Ryoko but in different colors. Some wore armor some didn't.

One wearing a purple robe, stood to the right of the table and held a quill in her hand. She had been writing on a map of Mordor. They all seemed to have been listening to this one.

And another sat at the end of the table, head in her hand, looking somewhat bored. This one was dressed in all back with no embroideries, save for the gold serpent over the right breast. She had dyed her shaggy hair green and wore it down. The only hair ornament was a black bandanna that held her bangs back and also served as a eye patch for her right eye. Her other eyes was as black as the rest of her dress. She had thin lips, a small nose, high forehead, pale skin, and thick, green, devil-eyebrows. Unlike the rest of her fellow female officers, she wore no make up or jewelry that he could see. Her breast were large and her legs were long. Nameless suspected that if she were standing she would be even taller than Ryoko. Just under six feet maybe. There was no way this girl was an Easternling. Maybe she was only half Easternling.

The one in black raised a eyebrow at Nameless and turned her gaze to Ryoko.

Ryoko nodded her head towards the other women and the eastern men saluted.

The one in black said something in the eastern tongue. A few words were exchanged, which Nameless could not understand.

The one in black looked to Nameless and straightened in her chair. "So," she began in the common tongue," you're the Nameless blacksmith. The one that came here with the _Corsairs of Umbar_Yes?" Namelessnodded.

"Thought so. Captain Shagrat has spoken of you before." She leaned back in her chair."He doesn't seem to like you. Or perhaps he likes you a little too much." Nameless said nothing, face emotionless.

"I am General Kurama. Tell me why you are here."

Ryoko began to speak in the eastern tongue. Kurama lent back in her chair and listened.

'_There all women. It must be hell for the men. What if they all PMS'd at the same time.'_ Nameless shuddered inside.

"Well I guess this will have to be put on hold." She said some things to the other women in her native tongue and a few words to Lee. Then in common tongue she said to Nameless," Master Nameless, I will speak with Lee first, in the mean time, please go with Captain Ryoko."

Ryoko bowed and left. Nameless followed her.

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdb**

Ryoko lead him across the tent they had exited and one down to the right. This tent wasn't as big as the one were the female officers had met, but it was still larger then the ones the soldiers slept in. It was the traditional color of all the tents. Above the entrance was a sign made from black silk, with silver characteristics, he did not recognize.

Ryoko held open the left flap, and motioned for Nameless to move inside. She was smiling with a weird look in her eyes, that seemed both strange but familiar to him. Like a song you hear that reminds you of another similar song, but you can't remember which one. It sounded the same but was different in some ways.

Nameless ignored the feeling of unease, and walked in, arms folded over his chest, looking only once at the captain.

Ryoko followed him in, tying the flaps shut. It was dark inside the tent. The days of Mordor held enough heat to scorch the ground, but barley enough light to brighten the sky. This was fine for Nameless, but he did sometimes miss the sun.

Ryoko pulled out a flint stone from inside her robe, and lit a lamp near the entrance. Then a few others so the room was evenly, if dimly, lit. Along the way she lit some incense sticks, that smelled strange but pleasant. The scent was new to him and it made him feel relaxed.

There was little furniture in the tent. A bed role in the corner with pillows thrown about, small desk and chair near a tent wall opposite to the one the bed role(s) were against. There was a fireplace in the middle, and a flap at the top of the tent to allow the smoke out. A small table, low to the ground, sat in the middle on the far side of the tent. Also were a few chest here and there containing whatever, he really didn't care. It was probably weapons, among other things, as he did not see any anywhere else. What he did see rather clearly, were the silk banners that hung from the walls. Some with pictures, or words, or both. And not just in the Easternling tongue either. Like the paintings in Captain Crow's cabin, Nameless suspected most of these were tokens of the Eastern woman's conquest. The cruel, and heartless soldiers of the East.

It was these silk banners that Nameless had been studding before Ryoko had lit the lamps.

He stood before a painting of a two student swordsmen, about to dual. They faced each other, weapons ready. The language was one he recognized from his travels with the _Corsairs of Umbar_ He read to himself**,'**_Risk all or nothing.'_

'_Fair enough.' _Thought Nameless.

Ryoko started towards him. Nameless remained weary of her but did not look at her. Instead he went to look at a Easternling picture. This one had a beautiful picture of a arousing looking woman, with fox ears, eyes, claws, teeth, and a tail. She was scantily clothed. He stared at the picture, unable to read the words on it. Something about this one picture made him very uneasy.

Ryoko came up behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but feeling him tense, glided it across to his other shoulder, and let it slid off. She sat down at the small table. She placed one of the incense sticks in a decorative pot full of sand.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked. He didn't answer so she pulled out a white bottle. He couldn't see it, but Nameless recognized the scent of alcohol. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and noticed Ryoko pop a small amber pill in her mouth. She looked at him, but he was studding another picture, this one of a elven man, in full armor of the second age.

As he looked, he tried to think of what the pill could be for. He did not ask for he did not believe Ryoko would tell him the truth.

Ryoko's eyes followed him, and he decided to sit with her. He sat on a mat she had placed on the floor for him, across from her. She handed him the drink, he took it but did not drink. Ryoko took a big gulp from her's. He noticed Ryoko watching him trough her lowered lashes.

Nameless brought the drink close to his face, but still did not drink. Instead he smelled it. Not obviously so, but breathed in the scent. The cup in his hand was warm. He breathed normally while secretly checking for anything that smelled strange about the amber liquid. He couldn't smell anything off. Damn the incense!

"Why do you not drink?" She purred. Purred? Was she high?! Maybe that was what the pill was for. Or maybe she had something in her throat.

How should he answer? If he insulted her, he could have a fight on his hands. And shagrat would just _know_ the blacksmith was involved.

"I'm trying to cut back." He lied. Ryoko seamed a bit disappointed, but accepted this with a smile and a nod. She put the cup aside and got to her feet. She started to remove her armor carefully. She opened one of the chest and placed the armor inside, then locked it. As Nameless watched her, she moved with ease. Maybe she wasn't high. It didn't seem that way to him.

He placed his cup aside. Ryoko then began to unbutton her shirt! She swayed her hips to some music in her head. Or maybe she's _VERY_ high!

Ryoko let her shirt hang over her shoulders as she reached up to pull the pins from her hair and throw them aside carelessly. Under her shirt she wore a black lacy corset, held together with leather straps. A metal guard cupped her left breast. Claws, dragon's maybe, were printed over the top of each breast. Her hair came down in a spill of seductive, straight black waves. Smooth as silk. Nameless was frozen to the spot. What should he do? He started to sweat, his heart pumping faster and faster. And although he was somewhat attracted to the scene, he was a little scared.

Ryoko slipped off her tight pants somehow without removing her lace up boots. She looked at the small, pretty boy. It was similar to the look Shagrat gave him. He was a wild, and troublesome animal. A untamed pet that needed to be beaten and broken. Then trained to be a suitable pet which would crawl into its master's lap and beg to be petted. Nameless freaked then.

He leapt up with great speed, and then fell down again, his butt hitting the ground hard. The world was spinning. His strong muscles felt like steamed noodles, only not as strong.

'_The incense...'_ He thought dimly. His mind was hazy. Ryoko must have built up some kind of resistance to it, for she walked smoothly over to her bed. She sat down and beckoned him forward. He could see through his unsteady vision that she held something in her hand. '_Damn! Stupid pedophiles! This is the kind of shit most boys jack off to. Why doesn't this happen to one of them!'_ He briefly thought that he wouldn't be all that surprised if every officer in Mordor turned out to be a rapist, pedophile, or BDSM. Sex is all about dominance to them. Dominance over the weak.

Nameless got into a crouch and steadied himself. Ryoko looked a little puzzled but mostly impatient and frustrated. She decided to come to the boy instead. She crawled towards him. Nameless took this as his cue. He lunged towards the small desk, crashing into it. He grabbed a small knife that served as a letter opener. His feet gave out under him but he unsheathed the knife. He pointed in towards Ryoko. She looked puzzled, then angry, then amused. She stood up over him as he began to crawls backwards towards the exit.

If anything it turned her on to see the pretty face so scared. Then she studied the face a little closer. She looked into those unheard of red eyes that looked back at her clearly, despite the drugs, full of the promise of murder. The eyes of a demon.

He was focused on her even as the knife shook in his right hand. The look he gave her frighted her. Her fear quickly became anger. This boy should beg for her favors! How dare he look at her with...with...

Ryoko growled low and grabbed the boys ankle, dragging him back and between hers legs with one swift tug. He lashed at her with the knife. She blocked and it nicked her across the hand, but because of the drugs, both the ones he was on and she was on, she was able to disarmed him in a few swift moves. That which she had grabbed off her bed turned out to be three red, satin scarfs.

Nameless was weakened by the drug. And the captain Ryoko was enhanced be her own. She grabbed his arms up in a steel grasp and tied them with the satin ties.

Nameless groaned. Despite his fear and weakened state, this was starting to turn him on. Ryoko noticed too. Senses enhanced by the drug.

She tore his shirt down the middle, and tied his legs together. She could see he was only half hard now. She smiled and licked her lips. She'd change that. Soon he would be moaning along with her and he would come back again and again for her attentions. She licked one of his nipples and his struggles renewed.

What was wrong with this boy?! He was acting like she was killing him, not seducing him!!

Nameless kicked and screamed until Ryoko began to slap the shit out of him. She straddled him and grabbed his face. She forced another satin scarf in his mouth. She grabbed both sides of his face and began to coo, trying to calm him down.

"Sssshhh! Sssshhhh! Ssshhh...Your ok...Your ok. What's wrong, huh? I know your enjoying this. So why fight? Huh? Sssshh, calm down..." she held him still, placing her forehead to his. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He squeezed them shut.

He hadn't cried since he became a outlaw. So many times he wanted to. So many times he could have. But he had not! And he would not now! He would banish his fear and sorrow with anger. Rage and hate would be his allies.

"Ssshh... That's better. Alright. Going to make you feel good. Going to make you beg for it." Nameless tried shaking his head, but she held him tight.

Ryoko slid down him and began licking his chest. He began to buck, trying to throw her off. But do to his lack of size and weight, plus the drugs, he succeeded only in getting slapped, HARD! Even so, he still struggled against her.

Ryoko was in the middle of slapping and punching Nameless when the flaps of her tent were cut open with a tearing sound. A small, pale woman, with wavy black hair and red full lips stood there, dagger drawn, as she took in the scene. She was dressed like a officer, much like Ryoko's discarded outfit. He outer jacket was blue with a red phoenix on the back. It stopped at her ankles.

The woman glared hard at Ryoko. She strode swiftly toward her. Ryoko got to her feet above Nameless, but not in time to block the punch to her temple that knocked her out.

Ryoko spun and hit the floor, out cold. The beautiful woman looked down at Nameless, who glared. The woman sighed.

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdbac**

Nameless sat in a chair before General Kurama. Hitomi, the name of the woman who had saved him from Ryoko, was rubbing some balm into his bruised face. It stung horrible! Hitomi applied the stinging, smelling, balm to the right side of his face with two fingers. The right side of his face flinched, but his left eye stayed on Kurama.

He sat up straight, hands on his knees. Now that the danger was pasted, he was calm again. But the fear would be back later he knew. When he dropped his guard and allowed his mind to wander, he would remember what had gone on in Commander Ryoko's tent. For now though he was focused on Kurama and one of her more trusted officers, Hitomi. He had to focus on the danger at hand. Just because he had been drugged and sexually assaulted didn't mean he was off the hook. He still had to report the sparring match and now the encounter in the tent. And if Kurama saw fit, for whatever reason, she would report all of it to Shagrat, and that did not bode well for Nameless. No it did not.

Kurama slumped back in her chair. Her left leg hung over the left arm. Her right arm rested on the other arm rest and her head was in her left hand. She looked nothing of the strict and disciplined Easternlings.

This was just getting worse by the second. This boy had been here for barely two hours and the trouble had just jumped at him.

This boy had sneaked into the Eastern camp, which was restricted. You only got in with a pass and Kurama didn't think this boy had one. Then he had entered into a unsupervised sparring match without the protective guard required of all the soldiers. Then he had beaten the crap out of Lee, one of her best soldiers, now in the infirmary for a slight head contusion. She had interrupted her meeting with her head officers to take care of it, thinking it wouldn't take long and it would give her girls some time to think. Instead she had to sort out the mess Ryoko, another one of her best, had caused.

It was of corse a violation of the rules to sleep with a person under custody, but to drug and bind a underage boy, and the Head Blacksmith no less, was inexcusable. Fuck, fuck, and double fuck! She was fucked. Lee was fucked. Ryoko was fucked. And this boy was fucking, fucked in the head, fucked! Not just figuratively, but literally if she told Shagrat. So the real question was, because she was pretty sure she new the rest of the story, or at lest most of it, was she going to tell Shagrat? No doubt that was what had the boy before her worried. Hell if that fugly, bastard Shagrat had a crush on her, or any orc for that matter, she would be freakin' out as well.

The boy and the woman starred each other down.

"That's enough Hitomi." Kurama said and straightened in her chair. "So, what's your story boy?"

Hitomi finished putting her medical supplies away, she stood up and placed them on a near by table. She sat in the chair in front of it.

They were in Kurama's tent. It wasn't very impressive but it was cozy and roomy. Maps and letters were hung up on the tent walls and laid out over tables. Kurama sat behind her desk, waiting for Nameless to start.

Nameless breathed in deep and forced himself to relax some. He began,"I had come here to deliver a sword I had made for Shizuma. He had paid good money for it."

"How much?"

"Three gold pieces and a silver."(2)

"Why didn't you wait for him to come and get it?" Kurama asked. Hitomi was writing his words down on a piece of paper.

"It is a good sword. I have no safe place to keep it. Some one may try to take it, so I offered to bring it to him when it was ready. I finished my quota and headed down to your camp. My work was not hindered by it." He looked to Hitomi who had gotten up. She placed a warm blanket over his shoulders. He did not need it, his blood was always hot, but he accepted it anyways. She went off to get some warm tea.

Nameless continued,"I waited for the guards to shift and sneaked past them over one of the walls, by the rocky hills." Nameless watched Hitomi carefully from the corner of his eye. She might try to put something in his drink. His head still hurt a little from Ryoko's drugs and beating.

"Once there I delivered the sword. I watched Shizuma spar with Lee. Lee saw me and came over to tell me off. The other Easternlings followed him. He requested I make him a sword better than the one I made for Shizuma. I refused. I didn't want to make a sword for some one who's skill did not impress me. He took offense to it and challenged me. I accepted. There was no armor in my size available so I offered to go without. He agreed to do the same." Hitomi gave Kurama some warm, peach and cinnamon tea. Kurama sipped it and sighed lightly. Hitomi then offered a glass to Nameless, then took one herself. Nameless enjoyed the tea. It was his favorite.

"We sparred and I won. Then Ryoko appeared with two males. I don't know who. She brought me to you. While you spoke with Lee she took me to her tent. She drugged me with some kind of incense and took some kind of pill herself. She stripped, tied me up, and pretty much just licked me and hit me a lot. That's when she," he nodded to Hitomi," showed up and decked the woman. And now here we are." He finished. Not even blinking or hesitating. The horror of it all would be back later. Later.

Kurama nodded. She sipped at her tea. Hitomi refilled the boys cup, then sat back again, ready to write again if needed.

Lee had told a more colorful and slightly different story, but they were generally the same. Kurama was tired and still had work to finish. She decided to just send Nameless back with a escort and handle her soldiers later, when she was finished with her other duties. The boy was not one of hers and there by none of her concern. And she wasn't so sure she wanted Shagrat to hear of her soldiers behavior, and handling of the boy he lusted for, either.

Kurama waited for the boy to finish his tea before cutting to the bone. "Look lad, I've got work to do still, and you've taken up enough of my time. I'm going to have Shizuma escort you out of the camp site and let my other officers know that you are not allowed in here again. From now on, your clients can come to you. If I see you here, I'll report you to Captain Shagrat. Understand?" Nameless nodded yes.

"Good. Hitomi, go find Shizuma and have him come here." Hitomi got up and left.

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacdb**

As Nameless and Shizuma walked past the red, eastern tents, Nameless saw that many of the Easternling were glaring at him. He recognized one as Lee's brother, but did not know his name.

"Hn." This was going to follow him around, he just knew it. Wel, nothing he could do about it. Except maybe scare the shit out of them. He smirked. But somehow he new that if what was said about Easternlings was true, this was not likely. Then again, he was 'the nameless demon child'.

Shizuma looked at Manta. He smiled and waved. Manta glared harder but it did not discourage Shizuma. He was just trying to piss the little up start off. '_Fuck you very much, Manta. Fuck you, and your piss of a brother, very, very much.' _He thought and smiled wider.

**To Be Continued...**

**acdbacdbacdbacdbacdbacacdbacdbacdbacdb**

**To the reader of this fic:**

_Damn this is taking a long time to get back to the present time line! Good Lord! Oh well, can't rush now. Gotta take it easy._

_(1). Extra points to those who get the joke. But the points don't mean a thing. Like the Queen of England , they don't mean a damn thing._

_(2). I had to think of some kind of currency. I'm thinking the gold represents $100. And the silvers are like $20 or $50. Work with me here._

_(3) Mother scorpions carry their babys on their backs._

_**BETAS: **I'm still looking for a beta. Please help me._

_I stole a few Chinese and Japanese stuff because I don't really know a lot about the Easternlings. So I'm just winging it. I think I'm doing pretty good to. What do you think? Oh wait, I don't give a damn! LOL! Its funny to me_

_But seriously, your reviews inspire me, so please feel free to express your opinion. Good or bad. I myself am a very harsh reviewer. And I love it._

_Again, anything you would like to say, please leave it in your review. Thank you all very much. _

_THE CHIPMUNK HAS A DISEASE!!!..._

_-Sneere_

_Jan. 6, 2005_


	5. Hunger and Revenge

**Red Eyes:**

**_Wanderer_ **

**Book One:**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

_**Recap:**_

All the blacksmiths in Mordor are expected to finished a certain quota of work each day. Lee, one of the best swordsmen that came with the Easterlings, and some of his comrades, stole Nameless's work in revenge. Captain Shagrat has had his eye on Nameless and will take any excuse to 'punish' him.

* * *

The gates screamed and groaned as they slowly opened tp allow the Orc raiders back inside its dark sanctuary. The stars were still a little too bright for their liking, but the tougher ones were still willing to go out if it meant victory. And victory it was. Villages towns raided and destroyed. Burned down to the dust of the earth, were all things eventually return. 

The Orcs hollered and whooped, chattering as they ran through the small gap between the gate doors. They bore on their backs the spoils of their victory. The scent of blood came with them.

The last of the raid, hundreds strong, for there had been few casualties. They had been careful. Around the third town, the group had split into four, and attacked the towns separately. They had tried hard to keep any of the villagers from escaping to get help. But as always, with so much going on, it was impossible. Split up, moving fast and hard, the Orc raiders were on their tenth town when the Rangers arrived on horse back. The Orcs drew back as if in a retreat over tall, grassy, hills, blowing on horns which sounded low but rang out over the hills. The Rangers had followed, unafraid and sure of their victory.

It's a awful feeling to be underestimated, but underestimating is even worse.

When the Rangers came fully over the hill they understood this. The Orcs they had chased were a few yards away on another hill. The Orcs' numbers were revealed as they spilled over the hill. Their comrades from the other three groups had heard the low call and had come at once. The Orcs had crushed them with the force of their numbers and raw strength.

By the time another squad had arrived, the Orcs had burned two more villages. Thus, the Orcs had won. They had outsmarted the Men who had underestimated them time and again. They had won another battle, and it would not be the last either.

That night, there was a celebration to honor the victory. For so long, Men had dominated over them. Built the Black Gate to imprison them, killing any who dared to escape from the hellish Mordor. But now the Black Gate was their allie, and Mordor their strong hold. They had waited long for this, and every little victory would be celebrated.

There were fights, arguing, yells and screams. Orcs from the raid were bragging, remembering each kill. Nameless saw with a little unease that some had even gone off to rut somewhere. And alcohol. Lot, and lots of alcohol! Beer, rum, whisky, wine, and some which Nameless could not recognize, and wasn't sure he wanted to either. Nameless had enjoyed a few Orc brews before, but he wasn't stupid enough to try them now that all the Orcs were getting high off of _something_! And that something could be the drink.

Nameless sat on the stair railings, his back to the stone frame of a iron door. He wore baggy black pant with many pockets, that held low around his waist with a white sash. He also wore a crimson vest like shirt with a high collar. It held together with three leather straps. Around his neck were three thick, gold bands. He wore two gold stud earrings, and a thick gold bracelet on each wrist and biceps. His feet were in black, silk slippers, with pictures of bright red dragons. Dragons with serpent like bodies, four claws, and feathery wings. Nameless really liked these shoes.

His right leg dangled over the edge, right arm propped on his left leg, which he brought up to his chest. In his right hand was a flask filled with some kind of Orc brew Drum had given him. It tasted horrible, and burned just as bad going down. But Nameless had learned to almost like the burn and the feeling it gave him was worth it. Nameless had to borrow one of Roaches phrases to describe it. '_Like god had_ _picked me up and hugged me.'_

Nameless wasn't sure what god Roach had been referring to, orif even that Roach himself knew, but whatever god it was, that god was warm like rocks on a summer day and crisp like winter air and mints. It neither smelled or tasted of any such things.

Lut had gotten up on a table, with a rather small snaga, and was attempting at some kind of a jig. The other Orcs and Uruks began to laugh. Others had started up some sort of song to go with it. Soon all those around the table were singing in slurred, gruff voices. It had twang to it. Real country sounding.

'_Some people say I'm no good_

_I'm crazy as a loon_

'_Cause I get drunk in the mornin'_

_And stoned in the afternoon_

_So if you don't like the way I'm livin'...(A)_

Or something like that. Nameless laughed out loud. The laugh was honest, strong, and beautiful. A belly laugh. The smile that came to Nameless's face took years away from it. And for a moment, evil eyes and wild hair and sharp teeth forgotten, he almost looked like another sixteen year old boy. Just a kid.

Such were Drum's thoughts. He came up the stairs quietly, sure that as soon as the boy knew he was there he would loose that beautiful smile. But Nameless sensed him anyway. He turned to Drum. His smile had faded some but it was still there. Drum noted that when the boy smiled it covered his whole face, even in his widealmond shaped eyes. Burning, bright red eyes which had seemed so ominous before now seemed full of that smile.

Drum frowned a little. He had also noted that the boy's tan was starting to fade. He was getting paler from staying in Mordor. Why had he just now noticed? Because of that smile.

"Hello Drum."

"Hello child. Why are you all the way up here by yourself? Burk has been looking for you. Thought you had finally gotten yourself killed."

"I'm fine. I simple did not want to bask in the glow of drunken and hyped up Orc heros. The disease seems to be spreading though." He nodded to Lut on the table.

This made Drum chuckle. He smiled lightly at Nameless who returned the small smile. Nameless turned his head back to Lut in time to see him fall off the table, bringing another uruk, who had joined in at some piont, and the unfortunately small snaga, with him. Burk's eyes went wide as the three fell on top of him. First Lut, then the snaga, and then the uruk.

Lut blinked and looked around. He groaned but was still playful.

"'ey-hick-Hey!," Lut slurred and hiccuped to the other two," Greff goff me!"

The Uruk got up and pealed the snaga off as well. Lut starred at the ceiling. The floor was nice and cool on his hot skin. But why was it so bumpy? Lut frowned. Then he heard someone close by moan.

"Wha? Eh? 'Ooowws,-'ow is- who's there?!"

"Grmm gmmm umm mmmm mmm innm!!"(d)

"What? What the hell was that?!" Lut looked around. Where was Burk? Did he leave with the other guy and the snaga?

"Durick? Brick? Burik!? Did you leave?" Lut struggled with the name.

"MMMMMMMHhhnnMMM!!" A desperate wail.

"Burk?"

"MHHMMM!!"

"Eh?" Lut looked down below him. He had four legs? He didn't think he had drunk that much. Lut tugged on one of the legs, hard.

"MMRRhhhM!"

"Burk!" Lut jumped up and fell back down on Burk who had been trying to get up. Burk gave a muffled yelp. Lut got up again a picked up a now limp Burk. Burk's head lolled back, circles in his eyes.

"Burk! Oh no! Hold on!" Lut tried to give Burk mouth to mouth! This got Burk's attention but not Lut's! As Burk tried to pry Lut off of him, Lut failed to notice that his friend was now fully awake and about to pass out from lack of air, panic, and embarrassment. Burk was about to passed out and Lut began to shake him vigorously. Lut let up though when Burk threw up all over him. The crowed howled and whooped.

Nameless and Drum where laughing hard now. Drum was slumped against the railing and Nameless was holding his sides.

"Ha-ha-oh,oh,ohhaahhaha! That was great! Ohh! Ha! Take care boy." Drum clasped a hand to the boy's shoulder, his clasp was firm,Drum left then. To get a few more drinks then to bed probably. Nameless smiled still as he watched the Orcs celebrate their small, but undeniable victory.

He was unaware that Garot, a uruk-hai in Mordor, had also seen the smile Nameless had shown earlier, the one Drum had thought beautiful. If such a word existed in the Orc mind.

Garot was a particularly skilled and strong fighter in Minus Morgul, despite his young age. He was twenty-three and had already made a reputation for himself as a regular bad ass. But a clever one. Sometimes a bit to artistic for a proper Uruk-hai worrier, but clever and strong.

He was 6'3 ft with shaggy, tangled blond hair and dark brown skin. Rather good looking for a Uruk, as blonds were rare and so were brown skinned Uruks. His ears were pierced with gold, arrow shaped earrings, but other than that he wore no jewelry. He wore the usual leather uniform of a Uruk despite the festivities. All the others had dressed up, bringing out jewelry made from metals and bones from raids and battles, andclothes of the same nature. But Garot had been to lazy. He didn't really care for decoration, save for the earrings he wore. He liked those.

Garot licked his lips as he watched his pray with glowing green eyes. He grinned, showing sharp, yellow teeth in the dark. Garot could not decide what he would like to see more, that smile that made the boy seem so young and had awed the Shaman Drum, or to see pain and pleasure cover that young face the way his joy and arrogance did.

Garot licked his lips again, imagining his boy crying, withering, screaming as he became _his boy_! The image almost undid him. He could feel his body responding to it, and breathed deep to calm himself.

He waited for Nameless to finish his drink before he approached silently from behind.

He was so stupid! He had let his guard down. In Mordor! He had allowed the drink and the festivities to distract him! In bloody, fucking Mordor! He would swing his legs back to kick his own ass if it weren't for the solid body behind him. Garot had come up behind him, wrapped a massive, powerful arm around his waist, and another over his chest, reaching up to grab his throat. Garot picked him up so his feet dangled, bringing Nameless's back to Garot's chest. Nameless was just 5 feet not including his hair. Garot was 6' 3 ft! Garot's breath was hot against his neck and ear. Nameless had gasped, but he did not cry out.

"Ssshh! All I have to do is squeeze." Garot increased presser on the boy's throat. The smell of him was intoxicating to the Uruk. He growled and back up through the door way, carring Nameless with him. Garot took his attention away from Nameless for a moment to look around. He grinned at the boy in his arms as he thought about how he wanted to do this. He needed time and privacy. He should take the boy up to one of the towers then since everyone else was down stairs. They would be to busy getting drunk or high or both to notice their absence. He walked down the hall, took a right, then headed up the stairs.

"_Who is this fucker? __Where is he taking me? And why? Oh no...no way! He's a Uruk. How does he plan to...WHY?! Why are all these crazy people trying to jump my bones?! What?! Do I have a sign on my back that only pedophiles can see? 'If you don't want to kick me then fuck me' Aargh."_

Nameless wiggled around a little. Garot squeezed lightly at the boy's throat. But that was alright, Nameless wasn't trying to get free yet. He just needed to move a little lower. He wiggled a little more trying to get a feel for his kidnapper's body. He shifted his legs about. His eyes widened. How had he missed that! He had found what he was looking for and almost wished he hadn't. The Uruk growled with the movement. Then he smirked.

"Quite wigglin' or I'll take you here and now." He continued to move up the stairs though with obviously waning patients.

Nameless brought his right foot up and then back down again, HARD! It made contact with Garot's excited and _super sensitive_ lions. Garot choked on his breath and bent over, one arm around the boy's waist, the other grasping his member. This was all Nameless needed. He broke Garot's grasp easily and ran down the stairs! Actually jumping down four or five at a time. He flew!

But Uruk-hai recover quickly from_ all_ injuries it seemed. Garot roared andwent after Nameless.

Nameless could see the door. If he had been thinking clearly he would have remembered that Garot did not care if all of Minus Morgul knew he was rapping the teenager, but it gave Nameless a goal to focus on at the moment. And that's what he needed. A goal to run to! To run! To run to a safe place! And that safe place was right out there. Right behind those doors! If he got pasted there– he just had to get past those doors. Just past those doors. Ten, eight more steps to go! Almost there! Just jump them! All of them! Jump! He jumped and was caught in a hot, strong, _hard_, grip!

'_No! Damn!'_

The Uruk leapt up a few stairs before they came to a wooden door in the side of the left wall. Garot hastily opened it and threw Nameless inside. It looked to be some sort of storage room for medical supplies. Nameless hit his head on the wall. He got up quickly but Garot was on him. He pinnedthe boyto the floorand growled in the boy's face.

"Shoudn't 'ave done that little boy. Your going to have to make it up to me now. And that's a lot of making up to do. Your not going to be sitting down for a long, _long_time. But that can wait till later. I'm Garot, and _you_, are whatever I decide to call you pet. Bitch." He sneered. His breath was hot, heavy, and foul with liquor. It seemed like he was trying to gain control of himself.

'_He doesn't want to kill me when he rapes me. He wants to own me so he can do me as much as he want's without having to share. That's why he brought me up here.'_

Nameless was shaking violently now. He clenched his teeth and muscles. It reduced his shaking, but the Uruk still saw it. Felt it traveling through his boy's body and into his own. His boy? Not yet. But soon. Tonight. But first Garot had to calm down or the coupling would kill the boy. Soon to be _his_ boy!

Garot stopped andlooked at Nameless.The boywas shaking and panting. His eyes were wide and heseamed to be looking past Garot. Looking at the ceiling. Garot was puzzled at first. All thought left Garot as he watched a small hand travel slowly down the boy's body and stopped and the waist band of his pants. It then moved up, and lifted the shirt the rest of the way off his waist, all the way up to his tan, muscled abs. Garot was hypnotize. Oh what a good pet he had found! The hand moved back down to the pants and that's when Garot saw it! The hilt of a dagger protruding from the waist band of Nameless's pants. Garot gasped. Nameless moved fast, barely even thinking, he grabbed the black cord wrapped hilt and pulled outthe blade.

It was strong with a mirror polish. A wakizashi.(B) The blade was 19 3/4in, the hilt 6 1/2in, overall 26 1/4incehs.

He quickly slashed at Garot's throat. The cut was clean and quick. Nameless shut his eyes to keep the black blood from getting in his eyes as it sprayed the walls, floor, anything within reach.

The problem with cutting throats, the unlucky bastard still had another minute to live before they die. And they're likely to do all kinds of crazy shit.

Nameless took advantage of Garot's surprise and horror to quickly scramble out from beneath him. He jumped back, placed his feet against the wall in a momentary, horizontal crouch, and used the wall to push off in a strong, fast lounge. He drove the blade into Garot's right eye socket. Blood sprayed over Nameless's hand, arm, elbow, and face. This time though he did not close his eyes. The lounge brought them to the ground. Nameless straddled Garot's chest. He thought he felt his blade touch the back of Garot's skull. The Uruk was still twitching though. Experience had taught Nameless to always be sure the person you were trying to kill, was really dead.

Nameless pulled the wakizashi from Garot's skull, bits of flesh and a skewered eyeball still attached to the blade, and drove it through the other eye. The body jerked with the movement once, then went still.

* * *

Some minutes later, Nameless walked out of the room he had left Garot's body in, closed the door, and headed down the stairs. He had wiped himself down with some of the towels in the room, but blood still covered his close and skin and the smell of it was strong on him. Nameless reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to go through the door he had come through, but changed his mind and turned down the right hall.Orcs andUruks glanced at the strange boy before quickly returning to their own business. 

Nameless needed to get out of his head for a bit, so he started to run down the hall, and at an incredible speed! His feet touched the ground for mere moments. Running was easier now that he wasn't going down steep stairs. Nameless swerved and dodged soldiers, Orc and human alike, at the last minute. He swerved to miss two drunken Uruks, who stumbled into Nameless's side. Nameless stumbled trying to catch his balance. He had just gotten it back when he smashed his face into a solid chest. It smelled human.

Nameless jumped backwards three feet. It was the Easterling Lee!

"You!", Lee pointed a finger at Nameless. Lee seemed a bit drunk.

"You punk! I got a whippin' cause of you!" Lee cursed at Nameless in his eastern tongue. Nameless raised a eyebrow, ready to pull out his weapon again, if he needed it. Apparently that would be so. Lee drew a scimitar from his bronze belt and advanced on Nameless in a low crouch.

"Hn! You've been drinking. Maybe now your fencing will improve." Nameless smirked, his voice mocking. He needed to get out of his head, and if Lee was going to volunteer as a distraction, then so be it. Hello misguided anger.

"Hey! What's-"

Nameless must have been out of it. He made a really stupid amateur's mistake. Again!

When the voice spoke, Nameless turned his head to see Burk approaching. Lee saw his chance and lunged at the boy, aiming for his head. Nameless saw the movement in the corner of his eye and his body acted without his mind. He brought the wakizashi up in a parry, not even unsheathing it.

Lee's scimitar nicked the bright red sheathe. Nameless beat the blade away to the right with his right hand, which held the wakizashi, and slammed his left fist into Lee's face. The hit sent Lee backwards.

Lee hit the floorand Burk was on Lee in a heartbeat. He forced the scimitar from Lee's hand by bitting it hard. Blood poured and Burk's instincts were telling him to tear into the Easterling, but Burk's mind told him to wait and see what Nameless did first. A few centuries ago the thought would not have even entered his mind but in this day and age Orcs were tought to use there heads more and more.

Burk slapped Lee's face opposite to were Nameless had. Burk straddle Lee, pinning Lee's legs with his own, and holding his arms down. Lee struggled and Burk growled in his face, showing yellow, sharp teeth. Burk's eye blazed a bright orange.

Lee stopped struggling. Nameless pulled his weapon from it's scabbier andadvanced towards Lee.

"Ah! Fuc-nnnn!" Nameless looked over at his right shoulder. Blood dripped down his arm from the short, throwing knife embedded in it. He growled. Standing off some ways, Ren stepped out from the shadows, ready to throw another knife. Ren took a few more steps towards him. Nameless glared at Ren who returned the favor. Silence stretched out between them.

Burk focused his attention on holding Lee down, who had stopped struggling with the arrival of Ren. Burk too was keeping an ear out. He had even stopped growling to hear better but there was no sound save for the whisper of the crowed which had stopped to watch and was quickly growing.

Nameless sheathed his weapon and stood straight. Ren relaxed his stance but still held the knife. Nameless was aware of the crowed that was watching them intently, hoping for a fight. Some entertainment after drink and song. The perfect way to end the evening, with a bloody fight between four talented fighters, rather than the bar brawls between drunken snaga.

'_To bad for them.'_ Nameless smirked.

He didn't think Lee was ready for the fight anyway. And were would the fun be in beating on a tired and drunken body. Lee was probably still feeling the pains from their previous encounter. Plus the punishment he must have received. Nameless did not believe that a whipping was all of it. His mind wondered what sort of punishment Ryoko had received if any at all. Nameless quickly put a end to that line of thought.

He came up on Burk's right and placed a hand on his shoulder. Burk looked at him and understood. Burk released Lee and got up to follow Nameless out as he turned away, towards the exit. Lee sighed and slumped back on the floor. Then the boy was at his side. Lee didn't get the chance to even wonder why because the boy bent over his head, grabbed his left ear, and pulled!

"AhYAAAHHHAAAHHHAAAAAAA!!"

The ear struggled a little but came off easily in the Head Blacksmith's hand. He smirked and turned to leave. Ren froze, not sure what to do. Lee clutched both hands over were his left ear was just a moment ago. Blood spilled past his fingers and the crowed of Orcs, Uruks, and mercenaries cheered. Ren gritted his teeth and starred at Nameless's back.

Nameless lifted the hand holding the ear above his shoulder so the crowed in back of him could see his prize.

"So you don't forget me."(C) Nameless sneered and the crowed cheered a more.

Ren went to Lee's side, who was still thrashing and screaming on the floor.

'_Damn you boy!'_ thought Ren, '_Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!'_

* * *

_In present time..._

Lee fiddle with the spot were his ear had been. He and his comrades sat in front of a fire in the Easterling Camp.

"Hey Lee?;"Asked on of the Easterlings, "We've been here for some time now, but all we've done is train. When are we going to see some action?"

"Maybe they called us in too early." guessed another.

"Nah," Lee folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against a log they had drawn up close to the fire for lounging, "_He's_ saving us for the bigger battles. He called us in now because the more things start to heat up, the harder it will be for us to travel about."

"On the bright side," said Ren,"at least we'll have more time to torment the runt."

"If Shagrat doesn't kill him for not finishing his quota. The runt being the Head Blacksmith and all." Said another.

"Hey! You think he'll let us have some fun withthe bratif they use him for 'sport'."

"No way! Shagrat wont let him be tortured. He'll probably keep the boy as a personal slave."

"A sex slave!" Manta chirped cheerfully.

"Snaga. Orcs say snaga." Ren pointed out.

"A sex snaga!" Manta exclaimed just as cheerfully. They all laughed at that!

There was a gust of wind. The fire jumped. Ren seemed to be the only one to notice as he stared at the fire, waiting for it to happen again.

The others were still laughing but they stopped went Ren's back went rigged. Ren's eyes went wide for a moment. Then he fell face first to the ground. Blood sprayed then gushed from a deep cut in the back of Ren's neck. The ground soaked it up, slowly, like savoring a fine wine.

"Aah!" The one sitting closes to Ren fell forward as well. He had a cut the same as Ren's.

Eyes glowed red in the dark, catching the light from the fire. The color of glowing ambers and fresh spilled blood. The Easterlings leapt to their feet, hands on their weapons.

Nameless stepped into the light of the fire, holding a beautiful sword. Bright carbon steel blade, 3 feet long. The blade was straight and double edged with a cross-guard. The hilt was also steel. Lenin was wrapped around the hilt were the hand went. It was meant for one handed use but could be used two handed if one wanted. There was enough room for that. At the but of the hilt looked to be a dragon's head. The black, wood and wax scabbier that held the sword, was held behind him, resting in the red sash around his waist. He wore a sleeveless black shirt. His sweat pants were also black and loose. Nameless wore no jewelry save for the thick, copper, wire band around his right biceps, in a zigzag pattern. Linen was wrapped around his hands from the knuckles to his elbows. His feet were bare despite the rough terrain.

He was sneering as he approached them. He placed a foot on Ren's skull and stood, putting all his weight on his foot. Ren's head cracked and broke under his foot, blood and bits of Ren's skull stuck to the boy's foot.

The others watched, not sure what to do. They had felt safe in their camp because of Kurama's threat to tell...Shagrat! Nameless was fucked. Both literally and figuratively. And he knew it too! This was his last stand. He no longer had to stay out of trouble for Shagrat. The Easterlings had made sure of that, and without realizing it, had taken away their only protection. These were Lee's thoughts as Nameless approached, feet soaked in blood, bits of flesh clinging to the right ankle. He was smooth, graceful, and full of confidants as well as malice.

"I'm sorry, I must have missed a joke. Would you mind repeating it for me?" He sneered voice mocking, full of amusement. His eyes no longer caught the light of the camp fire. They were filled with his own fire. Burning with hate, malice, condensation, mockery, amusement, sarcasm, and a want and promise of pain and death.

These things shone on the red eyed boys face as clearly as a full moon in the dessert. His hair stood on edge, taking on more of the flame like quality. He flexed his hands. His grin showed his fangs, so well hidden before.

InsideNameless could feel dams breaking, chains snapping, walls falling, his sanity fleeing for dear life as his demon emerged slowly to the surface. Just barley noticeable, only scratching the surface. But there. And that was enough. It had been waiting patiently, never sleeping or resting, waiting for it's boy to break again and let it loose. Wispering inthe ear of his subconscious. Nowthe Demon was ready to come out. The Dragon was hungry.

**To Be continued...**

* * *

_**To the Reader of this fic:**_

_**SKITTLES! Taste the rainbow!**_

_I have a BETA!! Thank you God! And thank you El. Your pen name is to long._

_Special thanks to BoromirDefender. You go girl! I don't think he's evil either._

_Ok, Defender asked me a few things that I'm going to answer in this fic AN. Here we go!_

_1. I dressed Nameless the way I did because I wanted to. It the image I have of him and I wanted to put that image in the readers head the best I could. So there!_

_2. Corsairs of Umbar? Vikings? Sorry no working. I went a little Caribbean because of the way they were dressed in the movie._

_3. I'll get to Nameless's origins later in the story. I plan to put hi in other stories so its going to change a few times. But for now he is a human. (Sorta. Don't want to give anything away yet.) A freak of nature is basically what he is._

4. As for the teeth, give me a nail filler and I can do the same. My brother has teeth like that. And my brother's cat is name Nameless. Fun fact!

5. The Eastelings can say things like "punk" and "fuck". The samarias did!

6. Yes, I based mine on the far eastern cultures. The armor reminded me of the Japanese armor. So you can throw your ape shit if ya want, it wont help.

7. The Chinese have female officers.

8. Would anyone care if some kid got raped in Mordor? No not really. But I thought I made it cleare that General Kurama was not like most Easterlings. ALSO, that such things were forbidden to a Easterling officer.

9. She's right! It is Chris Smith. My bad! Sorry!

(A) A old country song my Father listens to. That's all I know about it.

(B) Between a dagger and a sword. Used mostly for defense. Light and easy to use if you know what your doing.

(C)I got this from **ANGEL**.

(d) In other words,"Get off of me you idiot!"

Notice how I couldn't resist adding the part about the dragon. I love dragons!

-Sneere

Jan. 13, 2005


	6. The DemonChild VS Kurama

_**Red Eyes:**_

_**Wanderer**_

* * *

**__**

_**Book One:**_

_**Chapter 6**_

In the black lands of Mordor fires often burned. Millions of little fires pocked the black hills, crowded by orc soldiers.

Just outside of Minus Morgul a large wall of wood and stone and hills separated the Easterling Camp at Minus Morgul from the orc camps.

Sounds of life could be heard inside Minus Morgul at all hours. The Easterling Camp however was for the most part rather quite. Or as quite as a army of Eastern mercenaries can be that is.

Tonight however the Eastern Camp was full of sound and alive with fire to big for one fire set. Or even many close together. Black and white smoke swirled together in a erotic dance. The high flames reach for the dancing smoke casting a artistry of lights like a painting of beautiful, unabashed wrath and despair upon a gray canvas. A battle with no victor for anyone. But the painting was not yet complete.

The horses screamed, and as one, they charged the stable doors, tearing it off its hinges and flattening the two Easterlings that had come to release them from the burning stables. The horses took off trampling soldiers and tents and anything else that was in there path, to crazed and frightened by the sounds and smells and lights to try and go around whatever it was they came across. They charged through the camp site blindly. Luckily there were not many of them. Fifteen horses at the most. But they were strong, war horses and together they caused a great deal of damage, causing even more confusion and panic.

Fire leapt from tent to tent. It had started at a few four or five tents but for some reason no one had put out a call for help until it had spread to too many different tents in various directions. Now several parts of the camp site were on fire and for all their disciplinary training no one seemed to be able to calm down long enough to pull it together. No one seemed to know how the fire had started or what to do to stop it.

General Kurama stood in her tent, fastening on her armor and weapons as quickly as she could. She had lite only one candle. The fire from outside shone through the red fabric, lighting it up enough for her to see.

Kurama had pulled on some black pants, calf high leather boots, a black bra, and her military robe. She had secured some knee and elbow guards and had just finished with her quarter gloves and gauntlets. She dressed quickly, tying her robe shut twice with a red sash. She placed a long dagger at the small of her back, a katana on her right hip, and a set of three throwing knives tucked into the holders on each of her wrist. As she turned to leave she turned back and kneeled before a chest. She unlocked it with the keys she wore around her neck. She searched the chest a few moments.

"Ah ha! Never leave home without you babies. Grandfather would kill me." She said to herself, carefully placing each of the small, papery items on the inside of her robe. She closed and locked the chest, placing the keys back around her neck.

As another after thought she grabbed a naginata**_(1)_** from its stand and pulled the sheath away from the blade at the end of the glaive. Kurama was careful to keep the blade of the long weapon down and away from her or anyone else's path.

Kurama walked out of her still intact tent and stopped to take in the scene before her.

The fire was still some ways away from her but it was moving fast in all directions. Her soldiers scrambled about trying to either get away from the fire or trying to put it out. That was no good though, Kurama knew.

It was obvious to Kurama that her oh-so-well trained soldiers were too scattered and panicked to gain under perfect control.

She looked over her right shoulder to two twin brothers that were standing close together. Young and pretty they looked to Kurama awaiting instructions._ That was good. At least the Easterlings had enough sense left to listen to orders if not think straight for themselves. But that was what they were trained to do from the beginning. Right? Right!_

Kurama turned her head back to the fire hearing the sounds of horses. _Great! This just keeps getting better and better._

Kurama turned to the twins,"You two!"

They looked up at her, a new light in there eyes. Kurama's voice was strong and clear and carried even over the sounds of the panicked camp site.

"Save whatever supplies you can and head to Minus Morgul. Tell whoever else you see along the way to do the same on General Kurama's orders. Go now! And hurry."

They bowed quickly and ran to the hills which lead to the orc's part of Minus Morgul.

Kurama turned around and walked to were the fires seemed to be rather strong. There was no logical reason for this, it was just her instinct. Instincts that had made her worthy of her position.

Head held high, features smooth, back and shoulders straight, Kurama walked through the panic and ruin of her once proud military camp. It saddened her a little to see it in such a state but it also made her feel at ease. Her camp smelled, looked, and sounded like a battle field to her. The first familiar thing to her since she had come to this foreign. And this was why she had come wasn't it? For war.

She and her soldiers had done nothing but train, drill, and spar since they had gotten here.

It wasn't so bad. It gave many of them time to cement their techniques. But it had slowly eaten away at them all.

Now here was a enemy for Kurama to fight. Something she could slay with her sword rather than just her mind. She could feel it.

She flexed her muscles. She could feel the strength in them. Her strength.

She felt light. Strong. Ready! She adjusted her grip on her naginata. The flames roared around her. The Easterlings spared her a glance but quickly decided to just get out of there and wonder about the General's commonly strange behavior later.

Kurama marched on into the burning flames of the Easterling Camp.

* * *

Walls of fire surrounded the Easterling foot soldier as he crawled away from the demon child that had slain his kin. His vision blurred. The smoke was getting to him, bringing tears to his eyes and making him gasp and cough.

His breathing was cut short with a gasp and a sharp but brief cry as the blade that had slain his comrades cut deep into his back. His body fell limp with a harsh sigh.

A cruel, but not surreal, smirk came to the boy's face, his sharp teeth just visible. Red eyes sparkled in the fire light.

He was covered in blood. Drenched in it. It felt warm and thick. He could smell and taste it, sending his sense on their own little high. He was shaking lightly.

Blood dripped from the shining blade in his right hand as he walked threw the flaming camp in a daze.

He had started the fires, throwing some of the burning logs from Lee and his comrades fire into nearby tents. Those sleeping in the tents awoke to confront him, and he had slaughtered them all as he had the fools that had brought him to this point. They barley had time to scream. Those that had heard came to investigate and met the same end as their kin.

It had been eating at him even before he had come to Mordor, demanding tribute. The sacrifice of his enemies, guilty or innocent it mattered not. The Easterlings had only been the long awaited excuse.

The flames did not burn him and he did not tire. Not while he was in this state of mind, when he and the demon inside him worked as one.

Nameless stopped. A sneer spread across his face, fangs now fully visible. He raised his head to greet the Easterling General Kurama.

She stood at the ready. Right foot in front, left behind, the blade of her long weapon pointed directly at the boy.

The look on his face was neither angry or crazed. It was amused. Calm. Arrogant. Confident. A dragon in it's territory, looking at the foolish being that had disturbed it. One that could be dealt with easily, but were would be the fun in that? And it had been so long since it has had any company, why not tease it a little first.

Nameless called out to her in greeting.

"General Kurama, good evening to you. I figured you'd be trying to gather what remained of your Easterlings and lead them to safety. I misjudged you. I won't assume anything of you again Kurama."

Kurama looked to the boys left hand. He was holding something, letting it drag on the ground.

Noticing the direction of her gaze, Nameless smirked and lifted his arm to show her his prize. He held two heads by their hair. One was Hitomi's, which had been cut clean at the neck, and the other was Ryoko's, which looked like it had been ripped off around the torso, her right arm was still attached, tangling by the skin and bone of her shoulder.

'_So then its not personal. For the most part anyway. This kid's just nuts!'_

Kurama walked towards she had let go but a week ago with her head bowed. She covered the larger part of the distance between them. Nameless smirked and lifted his chin slightly in challenge. Kurama lifted her eyes. Black meet red and all that needed to be said was said.

Kurama rushed forward! She jumped high into the air hoping that if he maid the parry the greater length of her weapon would whiplash over it and strike him.

All hopes die in Mordor.

Nameless stepped to the left and the son of a bitch smacked her with the heads of her officers! The heads cracked and split with the force of the hit. Blood and bits of bone sprayed across Kurama and her opponent.

The hit was both painful to her ego and her head. Kurama hit the ground, rolled on her side a few steps, and got to her feet quickly.

_That. Hurt!_

Kurama could already feel the right side of her face beginning to swell. Bits of skull pierced Kurama's cheek, she briefly felt a concern for hygiene, but quickly brushed it aside.

Her opponent-Kurama wasn't sure who or what to call him now- looked at her with mischief and mockery in his bright red eyes.

He threw his prizes off to the sided casually and took a stance, placing his left foot behind his right, he raised the blade even with Kurama's chest. And a hand in his pocket. Damn him!

Was it her, or had he grown some. He had! She was sure of it. He looked about 5' 6 ft. now. He had been smaller before, she was certain. His ears now were now pointed to. And his hair seem to stand rigid with energy his body was letting off. This confirmed Kurama's suspicions. Or at least in her mind it did.

One_, this kid's nuttier than a fruit cake! And _Two_, he was getting help from some kind of spirit. Not a very nice one from the looks of things. But most spirits that required human host were not nice. And usually required a frequent blood sacrifice._

Kurama swept her eyes over her ruined camp. _This boy either hadn't indulged his demon in a_ _considerable amount of time, or was mixed up with a very powerful demon. Maybe more than one! Hell, it could be all of the above!_

Kurama had to play this smart and fast! The flames were growing more violent, spreading faster and closing in on them both.

Kurama looked to the demon-boy. He didn't seemed to be too bothered by the heat of the fire, or the pungent orders riding on the billowing smoke. He seemed right at home. _Great! Just peachy..._

"What's wrong now!" the demon-boy said loudly, voice confident and condescending," Lost your nerve already? I thought you were here to kick my ass!"

It was Kurama's turn to smirk. Kurama embedded the blade of her glaive in the ground. The demon watched her closely. Something was off. He could feel something nipping at the back of his mind.

Kurama advanced until they were ten feet apart. She drew out her katana, taking it in both hand, she raised it before her and bent low into a sword fighting stance.

The boy's smirk returned, red iris small and cruel in wide almond eyes. A sword fight then.

No doubt this brave- or else very stupid - woman had something in mind. Some daring plan. Well, let her try. He was in the middle of his groove, and he'd be damned if he would let some Easterling bitch stop him now, damn it!

'_Hn, this will be short. Shorter than I would like, I suspect.' _He sneered.

The boy was the first to attack. He lounged at Kurama with great speed, covering the distance easily. Kurama just had time to block.

The demon-boy went on the total offensive, attacking rapidly at any open area he could find. Kurama couldn't block them all but swerved and dodged to avoid the blade, but still it nicked her. Kurama was able to just barely block the fatale blows. The demon-boy was relentless in his attack, forcing Kurama back into the fire, which was still, steadily growing.

Kurama noticed this and in a bold move she came in close and decked him right in the nose with her left fist.

Shocked, the boy stumbled backwards, and landed hard on his rear. Kurama took this chance to run into one of the larger, burning tents, that had yet to fall.**_(3)_** The boy got up in enough time to see were she had gone. He couldn't understand her reason, but he was curios, and still high from his earlier kills.

He rubbed the heal of his left hand into each eye, got up, and took off after her.

Inside the heat was intense, and the smells overpowering. Earlier he had enjoyed these smells, but now he cursed them, for he could no longer distinguish the sent of that twice damned, eastern woman.

The fire licked away at the tent, and often burning hunks of something or other would fall to the ground. He dodged them, searching for the woman he had persuade.

He looked about wildly, starting to get agitated. He heard a slight flapping sound and looked up just in time to dodge the flaming top of the tent. He dropped to the ground and rolled forward. But just as his feet had settled he was grabbed from behind in a strong embrace. The two haves of Kurama's uniform robe incased Nameless as she pulled him close to her chest, head bent over his left shoulder. Her green hair fell in front, hiding her face. Behind the green veil of hair she gritted her teeth, face screwed up in concentration.

_She mustn't let go! She mustn't let go! No matter what! If she let go, if her grip faltered for even a second, the demon in her arms would brake free, and she would die! She would not let go! She would_-"Gughaaa!"

Agony shot through every never of his body. Watching, one could almost see it rase across his skin, like small blots of lightning, cracking and popping as it seared its way through his body.

Desperate, he gathered up his fading strength, pushing it to the surface and letting it surround him in a sudden blast of heated black energy. It burnt through him and the Eastern General.

Kurama was thrown off him by force. Some invisible force had grabbed and pushed her with a incredible strength. The force of it sent her flying off the boy. Kurama landed some feet away on her back, the wind knocked out of her. She rolled to her side trying to get to her feet as quickly as possibly.

Nameless dropped to the floor, heaving. He looked behind him to were Kurama was already getting to her feet. Her black coat fell open, the red sash and the weapons it once held had been discarded at some point during their fight. Kurama had managed to hold onto her katana though, and now wielded it, but that had not been the source of the pain. His almond shaped eyes widened, pupils shrinking it the bright red irises.

Surtras. Scriptures. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. Holy ruins and prayers on paper had been attached to the inside of the coat.

With a growl he shakily got to his feet, hand clasped firmly on his sword. He searched the now spinning and dizzying room. His eyes focused on Kurama, right in front of him!

But she was not going to give him any time to retaliate. She cut at him across the chest, slicing open his shirt and drawing blood.. He had jumped back quickly so the cut was shallow. The demon-boy stumbled some. Kurama took advantage of this.

She pushed the boy down, placed her left foot were his chest connected with his stomach, and plunged her sword into his right shoulder.

"YYAAAAAAAHhhaaaannnAAA! Gauuuh!"The boy gasped. At first the sound seemed inhuman but towards the end he really sounded like a hurt, young boy.

Kurama kicked the weapon from the demon's hand and stood on his left shoulder with her right foot, placing her weight behind it. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out more written spells on paper. She threw them at the boy and they attached themselves instantly to his wrist, biceps, ankles, knees, and elbows.

The boy withered and screamed at the touch, and the more he fought, the worse it become. Soon, the boy's energy was spent, he lay back, exhausted and gasping for breath.

Kurama stood back and watched without pity. She spread her legs apart in a stance, and clasped her hands as if in prayer. In her right hand was a string of brightly colored beads. She began a sort of chant.

"!#!#&!&!"_**(2)**(snickering)_

The boy could not understand the words or even guess at their meaning. But he was so very, very tired. He closed his eyes unwillingly. He was afraid to sleep for he feared what he would find when he awoke. But the blackness behind his eyelids was grasping at him, pulling him under wether he was willing or not. Still he fought it until his body gave out before his will.

The sound of Kurama's chanting grated on his nerves, but the heat of the fire, and the smells, they comforted him as he was forced to submit.

He could feel himself coming down off his adrenaline rush. As he came down he realized just how utterly exhausted he was.

The demon in him screamed and growled and demanded that he get up! That he was set free! That he burn this Easterling bitch to the Black Pits and beyond!

But his mind and body was tired, and in the end, the demon too was worn down from the energy los the struggle took. Energy they no longer had.

Their breathing was heavy, but it evened out some as they relaxed. The boy lent his head back and they fell to sleep within seconds.

* * *

_Red. He lay in a poodle of thick red liquid. The grass and mud was tainted with it._

_The color looked stark against his pale white skin. His blue eyes stared dumbly into space._

_He felt like nothing. Nothing at all. He felt no pain, no warmth, no cold, sorrow or anger. Just there, and nothing more._

_He wanted to get up but he couldn't. He didn't know why he had to get up, he had no reason to get up, and it was so much easier to just lay there. Still he wanted to get up. And the more he lay there the more he wanted to rise._

_Red, sticky, boney fingers ran threw his hair. Caressing his cheeks, rubbing the small of his back and hands and upper arms, all the while whispering to him bitter, sweet endearments. _

_He was vaguely aware of his lips moving, just barely._

_Then the hand was at the back of his neck. Grip firm but not painful, it pulled him off the blood soaked ground._

* * *

Nameless's red eyes snapped open, his head bowed. His vision spun for a few moments before becoming clear.

He was being literally dragged down some long hall way Nameless did not recognize, by two uruk-hai; one on each side, each with a strong, numbing grippe on one of his arms. They were armed and armored. They walked with their backs straight and stiff.

The hall was rather large, arching upward till it was too dark to see, decorated by broken furniture and old, worn out carvings of winged creatures and other beings Nameless didn't recognize. Soft, glowing, blue orbs were placed along the walls, allowing the uruk-hai to see, but they only hurt Nameless's eyes.

Uruk-hai eyesight was not awful in the dark, but it still wasn't as keen as orc's.

Nameless was still too exhausted to stand on his own, so the two uruk-hai continued to drag him down the dark and poorly lit hall.

The orcs had seen the huge fire that had destroyed the Easterling's Campsite, but had not approached. If something had happened that was out of the Easterling's control, they would come to Captain Shagrat.

As they had, some stumbling, some running for their lives. Many were injured. They would have to request more troops from the East to make up for the ones who had died in the fire and for the others, who would not last long in Mordor, with such siris injuries.

Some of the Eastern soldiers claimed they saw a demon among the flames, wielding a sword, laughing like a mad man, and eyes that glowed redder than any flame.

This had frightened the orcs, being prone to believe in demons and superstition. But it also confused and intrigued them.

The uruks were skeptical though. It seemed more likely to them that the 'highly disciplined' worriers had been wound to too tight. With the aid of strong drink, they may have temporally lost their minds and had started the fire while fighting amongst themselves.

On Shagrat's command, they were ordered to help put out the fire, but having a short supply of water, and no means to get it to the Easterling Camp is enough time and quantities, they had to settle for keeping it from spreading any further.

With stone and sand they had built a sort of wall around and upon the hillside that separated the Easterling Camp from the main building and the other Camps outside.

They need not had bothered though. Had they been thinking clearly, they would have realized there was nothing outside of the Easterling Camp to fuel the fire. The lands of Mordor were made of little more than burnt rock, ash, and dirt. Still better safe than sorry. The fire had them all worked into a frenzy.

As the fires burned higher, the female General of the Easterlings, Kurama, had come running out of the burning camp, scrambling desperately up the hillside. She was covered in sweat and black ash, breathing deeply.

There were questions as to why she had been the last to leave the burning camp, but upon seeing she carried something over her shoulder, wrapped in her uniform jacket, it was assumed she had gone back to retrieve whatever it was.

When it was discovered to be the unconscious human Head Blacksmith, the Easterlings began pointing and screaming in their foreign tongue. Apparently this had been the demon that had set fire to their camp. Some had been ready to panic and Kurama was to tired from her up hill jog, and unknown to them until later, battle with the demon-child. Her other, surviving commanders were also ready to panic, or where to injured or badly burned to help her. So Captain Shagrat took command.

Nameless now focused on keeping his breath steady while the two uruk-hai continued to ignore him. He was nerviest and frightened and could feel his panic starting to rise in him but was still to weak from his fight with Kurama to do anything about it.

His mind was wandering to all the different possibilities, what could happen to him, what these orcs could do to him, what they would do to him. What if the Witch King were to suddenly arrive, or some other being of the Nine Black Riders, would they then see to his punishment personally?

Breathing suddenly became a challenge to him again. He ruthlessly put a stop to all other thought and focused on breathing. In, out, in, out. Repeat, repeat.

His vision spun and his head lolled from one side to the other every time the two uruk-hai would turn. Nameless was dimly aware that they were going up but was desperately trying to keep himself from spewing his last meal to realize what up meant.

Up meant towers, and the towers were reserved for elite fighters, commanders, and special prisoners.

'_Huh? We've stopped._

_Breath._

_But why?_

_In,...a little more..., and out. Slowly!_

_Why breath, or why have we stopped?_

_Must breath._

_Don't worry about a future you can't change. Just breath. You're to weak to do little else. Breath now. Live. Live, heal, get stronger. Then you can worry about the future.'_

Nameless opened his eyes. His vision had cleared, he could see straight, but he still felt ill. They stood before a iron door in the stone wall. In one hand, the uruk-hai on his right held a lit torch, while the one on his left fumbled clumsily with the keys in it's thick fingers, obviously to the locked door. Eventually the uruk-hai with the keys had to let go of Nameless's left arm in order to sort out the right keys needed with both hands.

Nameless knew not what was behind the iron door and did not allow himself to neither guess nor care.

The uruk-hai with the keys growled in frustration, the one still holding onto Nameless's right arm sighed heavily in waning patients. Finally his comrade seemed to have found the right key and had managed to unlock the door after figuring out which way to turn it.

They hastily flung Nameless into the stone cell. They quickly closed it and all light left the 'room'.

Nameless's chin smacked hard against the stone floor as he was literally thrown into the cold cell. He turned his head to the right and laid there, not moving until he remembered he had to keep breathing. He gasped and panted until his heart beat returned to normal and he had enough oxygen in his body to breath normally again.

Nameless closed his eyes, letting the cold stone against his skin sooth him. He was nearly asleep when ghost fingers slide over his check and through his hair, bringing him back to attention.

He opened his eyes and looked about the room lazily. He listened and could hear indistinguishable noises coming threw the stone beneath him. But that could be anything, rats, other prisoners, soldiers, his own heart beat.

The flesh behind his left ear twitched and he decided to lift his head up and listen. He froze. Breathing. And not his either. This breathing was out of sync with his own, which he had momentarily forgotten to do again.

Slowly, he laid his head back down to the stone. After remembering how to breath evenly again, he calmed himself down some and turned his head to the right of were he lay.

Green eyes glowed in the dark. They stared at him, unreadable.

Nameless focused his vision, but still he could not see the orc- for what else could it be -from this far away. Not until the demon was back. Then his strength would return to him. Until then, he was helpless. In a stone prison. With a orc.

Suddenly Nameless felt very cold and frail.

_**To Be continued...**_

* * *

_**To the Readers of the Fic:**_

**(1)**_ Sort of like a japanese spear, but bigger._

**(2) **_I know! I know! I saw this somewhere, I forget, a manga or something and I just _had_ to try it. Just to be corny in the middle of a violent scene._

**(3)**_ Think Circus tent._

_I was actually going to make this more of basically a mainly slash fic, but I don't think I will anymore. Rest assured our main character will still get molested by both genders whenever possible._

_Well, actually he's MY main character but since I am choosing to share him with you I use the term 'our main character'._

_This chapter took me a bit longer to get out didn't it? It's also a bit longer than the others are. Eight pages including this AN._

_This chapter didn't really go anywhere in my opinion. Well that's not true, it went further into the story, so it did go somewhere!_

_**And a special thanks to Sandtrout **who has been reading each chapter and telling me how I can improve it. I mostly write for myself but if I'm going to post it on a public site I may as well make it so other people can enjoy it too._

_So, as always, I encourage you to be brutally honest in your reviews and if you have any suggestions, please leave them in your review._

_Semper fi, motherfuckers!_

**-Sneere**

**Mar., 31, 2005**


	7. Captain Shagrat

**Red Eyes: **

**Wanderer**

**_Chapter 7_**

* * *

"_Ours...wake..."_

_Nameless lay face down in a pool of bright red blood. It was still warm too. The smell was strong to his suddenly keen senses. Distance noises pricked at his ears--_

"_...Eat..."_

"_...is awake..."_

"_...soon..."_

_--he ignored them. He lazily opened wide, dark blue eyes but there was nothing to see here but black, stretching for miles upon miles of even more black._

"_Don't...he..."_

_He lifted himself up slightly on his elbows. He didn't have to look to know he was naked, he cold feel the sweet smelling liquid against his bare skin. He sat up, legs crossed in front of him. He felt dreary and calm._

"_Our boy..."_

_It wasn't deep in the least, only enough to cover the ground; about an inch of liquid at the most, he guessed._

_He ran his right hand along the surface of the red pool. He cupped it in his hand and raised it to his face for inspection. He starred as the bright liquid slipped between the cracks of his fingers back into the shallow pool. He turned his hand over and over, examining the red tint that clung to his hand. It didn't feel sticky or dirty to him. Instead it felt clean on his bare skin, cleaner than water even. He returned to running his hand along the surface, playing with the bright red pool. He herd a high pitched giggle, like a tickled pig, and scanned the black with his eyes, starting to feel slightly more alert. Finding nothing and unable to decipher the distant whispering, he returned to playing with the pools surface._

"_Captain Shagrat!... _"

_He jerked his head up looking around him. That had got his attention, but he was quickly losing his focus again. He turned back to the bright red surface and listened hard._

"_...It...has..."_

"_...Should be..."_

"_...Hungry...your..."_

"_Hands...!"_

"_Your skin..."_

_Nothing but useless scraps of speech._

"_Hn." The surface of the pool was moving slightly, like a tide. He leaned over the surface, looking hard. He could see fish! Scaleless, meatless, eyeless, fish! Small rocks were dragged back and forth by the sudden tide in the pool. The fish ignored the boy sitting in their bright red pond. One tried to bite at his toes. He grabbed for it and fell off balance, falling head first into the pool. He was submerged in red water. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep it from getting into his eyes. He turned himself about what he thought was up and began pumping his legs and arms._

_He hadn't tried this twice before something clamped onto his left ankle, and then his calf, in a bruising grip._

_Forgetting himself, he snapped his eyes open and looked to his left leg. A decomposing skeleton, the bones crimson in the red water, was clinging to his left leg, moving its jaw in gurgled and broken shouts._

_And now he was scared! His adrenaline rushed and he kicked his legs trying to swim away_. _He kicked and flailed wildly. Finally, he had freed his leg but something had grabbed his right arm and the creature below him had taken this opportunity to grab at his leg again. He looked to see what had his arm and seeing a bony hand trying to crush his arm in its grip, had been all the inspiration he needed._

_He jerked his limbs violently and painfully away from his attackers and swam to the surface in a few powerful stokes._

_He gasped when he broke the surface not even realizing in his panic that he had needed to breath. He searched frantically for some form of land mass to climb up to but there was only the endless bright red coupled with a black horizon._

_He felt his panic rise again but before he could even start a giant, red skeleton , about 10 feet tall, in light body armor, emerged from the red water behind him and encircled him in an embrace. It fell backwards into the red water, dragging the boy with it._

_The water rushed passed him and in a moment of panic and stupidity, he gasped. But instead of his lungs filling with water like he expected, they were filled with air._

* * *

Nameless gasped and was awake immediately. He drew his right foot back and kicked the orc that had been licking it square in the nose. The orc yelped and jumped bac, whimpering and growling at the nasty little boy that had kicked him. 

The orc was old. Very old. His clothes were just as old and smelly. What they were made of Nameless couldn't- didn't want to guess.

Nameless placed a hand over his forehead as if that would help stop the spinning. He had been in this little cell for awhile, how long he couldn't say, but not long enough for him to recover. The conditions of his environment were of no help either.

When he had first come to Mordor, he had asked Drum how they could tell when it was day or night.

"Time stands still in Mordor." Was his reply. Back then Nameless had been to busy with the hours in his work schedule to really care what that meant. And now, for the first time since he had come to this damnable waistband, he understood what Drum had said. He could feel the meaning in the words from the very air around him. Nowhere to go and all the time in the world to get there.

"What were you doing you old pervert?" Nameless spoke, his voice as loud as a drum inside the stone cell. He closed his stinging eyes. The room was as dark as it was before, but he had gained a little of his strength back and now he could see, if blurrily, the details of the cell, and its other, insane occupant.

Pwff! Details. It was a large cell with one metal door, the only light and air coming through the bared window in said door. There were no other windows. There was a pile of hay in the corner to make a bed on the cold, floor that smelled wet but felt dry. The hay however was for Kaushar, the old pervert mentioned previously, and he shared it with the mice that soon become his snack for the day. Night? Whatever. Day or night it was still to early for this.

"Only wanted a taste boy. Just a taste. I knew you would say no and so I did not ask. Your reflexes are getting worse. That or your health is failing and your body needs the rest. Either way, you slept deep, and long...What were you dreaming about?" The old orc's voice was deep and rough. The scars adorning his face and body suggested that he had once been a soldier orc, back in his priam. Nameless was sensitive to intense people, and this guy was intense.

"What did you do to me while I was asleep?" Nameless asked, looking at the old orc, one knee drawn up to his chest, the arm attached to the hand on his forehead resting on his knee.

"Don't talk back to me boy!" The old orc roared, getting to his feet quickly, "I said I had a taste and a taste I had. Nothing more!" He calmed down and resumed his seat on the grown. "Insulant pup. No discipline. No respect. No wonder you's in here with the likes of old Kaushar. Yes. Yes sir, indeed."

"And why, pray tell, are you in here sir?" Nameless asked, not really expecting a real answer. He had asked this question many times before and each time the old orc would start chattering about nonsense that soon became mutter words in the dark, until finally that old soldier would retreat back into his own mind, leaving the outside world safe for Nameless to rest until the old orc's next grope session or the guards would bring them food.

"Ah hah! That's more like it! You just keep up with your yes sir this, and your yes sir that. And sometimes a no sir, this or that. But about this you asked. Not about that. Poor, old Kaushar's been here a mighty long time, lad, he has. Always looking for someone else to blame. But I showed 'em. And never regretted it once. Well...not since after they put the screws to me. I remember back when-"

See. Why are old people always talking about when they were young and compare it to the young people of whenever. Nameless didn't really understand it but from what he could gather out of the old orc was that he had pissed the wrong person off and had wound up here. Unfortunately for him, the hot shot that had placed him here had died and Kaushar was forgotten about. And now, a really long time later, here he was, in the same cell he was put in a really long time ago.

Nameless waited for the old orc to quite down before he himself went down for a nap.

* * *

If you're wondering what time it is, then you really weren't paying much attention before were you? 

"Wake up! Awake luk-izub!" Kaushar whispered harshly, rubbing the boy's arms and chest roughly.

Nameless groaned and shook Kaushar's hands off. "Kausher," he groaned groggily," my answer is the same as always. No! Now go back to bed." he said and settled in, trying to go back to sleep. He needed to rest and heal, but Kaushar was making that very difficult for him. Nameless would have choked the life out of him if only to get some sleep without being interrupted, and had he thought he could take Kaushar in his weakened state, he would have already. Damn he was pathetic to be afraid of this aging orc, and for good reason. He was helpless!

Kausher growled,"Urk lat! Futhurz!"

Nameless groaned, stirred, and slapped the old orc hard across the face. Kaushar growled and countered with his own harsh slap which knocked the boy's head into the ground with a loud _'thud'._ Or maybe it was more of a _'smack'._ Well, somewhere between '_thud_' and '_smack_', Nameless groaned in pain, grabbed the back of his head, and kick the old orc in the gut. The elderly warrior's breath left him with the solid blow. Nameless took this opportunity to try and crawl away from under the orc above him, but Kaushar grabbed both his forearms in an iron grip and pulled the boy back to him. Nameless struggled and kicked wildly, weakness and fear causing him to panic. One of these wild kicks connected solidly with the old orc's knee. Luckily for him, Kaushar had been prepared for such a retaliation. The one that came up under his jaw however, he had not been prepared for. Kausher almost lost his grip on the struggling boy. Growling loudly this time, Kaushar tightened his grip on the boy's arms hard enough to make him yelp from the pain. Kaushar quickly placed a hand over the boy's mouth and pinned him to the ground.

"SHH! Listen!" Kaushar whispered furiously.

Nameless stilled. He listened carefully, the sounds outside of their cell magnified by the vibrations through the stone floor. He focused on the sounds coming from just outside their cell door. It sounded like a fight. Orcs, he guessed.

Kaushar had removed his hand from Nameless's mouth and placed his weight on his forearms, but he rmained still and quiet over Nameless.

"What are-" there was a loud snap. It sounded more like wood, rather then bone, and there was no pause in the scuffle."What are they fighting about?" Nameless asked quietly, unconsciously scooting away from the door, were the danger lay, and towards Kaushar and the warmth of his elder. Realizing what he was doing, Nameless scuttled over to the wall. His weakened body was automatically seeking out refuge, a place to rest and heal. Kaushar was his elder, elders were parental figures. Parents of parents. Parents protect their cubs. Thus elders protect all cubs.

Nameless looked to Kaushar, who was looking at him with an expression he didn't recognize. Kaushar didn't seemed disturbed by the fact that Nameless had been just short of cuddling him only moments before. Did he know that Nameless had been unconsciously asking his elder for refuge, or did he simply not care.

"You, I think. I've been here to long to hope it was me. But I don't think I would want to go even if it was." Kaushar said in answer to Nameless's earlier question, before his sudden shyness.

The fighting was getting rougher and louder now. Nameless wished he had heard what was said that had started the fight.

"Neither of them wanted to come in after ya." Kausher said with a slight smirk, guessing what the boy had been thinking from his expression. "Seems some shaman from Moria has placed the fear of the Belrog in the soldiers of Mordor, Says you're the chosen disciple of the Belrog, the spawn from his flame."

Nameless smirked as well. Drum had turned the mental breakdown of a young boy into the work of the almighty Belrog through his 'son' or rather 'spawn'. And now it seems that most of Mordor was afraid of the 'chosen disciple'. To afraid to even walk into the same cell as he, even when ordered to. Shagrat must be pissed! He was going to kill Drum if he hadn't already. But knowing Drum, Shagrat would have to find and then catch him first. Ye flippin', hairy, gods. That was just to funny.

Nameless burst out laughing, the sound surprising Kaushar, vibrating off the walls and caring through the stones. It was nice, if caused by a dark piece of humor. It was one of those laughs that said 'this is so fucked up and stupid and all kinds of crazy but its ok because its funny. Truth is often stranger than fiction, and sometimes its funnier to, because it real.'

Hearing that laugh, like all the shit that was happening was just another joke, made Kaushar feel better. Like everything was ok. It didn't have to make sense, because really, all the bad things that were happing didn't really make a lot of sense either, when you look at it as though it didn't involve you. Or any way you look at it really. So why should anything that makes you feel better about it make sense either. Kaushar had to smile.

"MAGGOTS! What the fuck is your problem!"

The noise inside and outside the cell stopped as quickly as hair burns. Kaushar recognized the voice. Guldug, one of Shagrat's inner-circle. He was a terror to prisoners and soldiers alike. He was Shagrats dog, loyal and vicious. He seemed quite content to be the favorite of a upper rank soldier than to be one and have to face the wrath and blame of those above that rank.

The two that had been fighting outside the cell began talking at once, voices mingling together in different tongues.

"QUIET! I don't want to hear your damn excuses. You two were given orders and you failed to follow them."

The loud orc, who apparently outrank the two prison guards since they were doing nothing to retaliate the harsh words throw at them, lapsed into the black speech. Nameless had gotten quite good at understanding the black speech but he was unable to follow all that was said. He gave up. He turned to Kaushar, to ask if maybe he could translate but the words died in his throat.

Kaushar was scowling, face focused and serious. In the lightless cell, Nameless could see the warrior that once was, coming to the surface on his cell mate, and was awed. He had known Kaushar had once been a cunning soldier, if the old orc's tales were to be believed, but actually seeing it; seeing it was entirely different. It changed his opinion about the old orc drastically, and when Nameless looked at his cell mate from now on, he would remember this moment. Supposing they should both live that is.

Kaushar turned his head and met Nameless's gazed evenly. Glowing green met burning red steadilly. Nameless had never seen a more focused look in the old orc's eyes. Kaushar's head snapped back to the door. He stood up, tall and straight.

Nameless had been so entranced by his new revelation of the old orc, with whom he shared his prison, that he had not realized the feud outside had been resolved and the prison guards had left. Not until Guldug had opened the rusted, ancient door, a whine coming from the old, tortured hinges.

Nameless blinked. He recognized this Uruk. He was certain he had seen him with Shagrat on the stair well that day. The day he had gone on his little trip down the road of flaming doom in the eastern sun. The one Nameless had mentally marked as 'Tattoo.' This Uruk was covered in them! Fool body. From the tips of his feet to the right side of his face.

Guldug was looking directly at Nameless. The red eyed boy was unsure how to react to this. Guldug's stern glare shifted to Kaushar and Nameless fought down the sudden urge to whine and cuddle the older warrior.

"Hmph, you still alive oldman?"

"Aye, I'm alive, pup! What brings you to our humble abode?" Nameless was surprised again by the clarity and calm of the other's voice, as if the other truly was just a insulant pup and he an honored warrior, like when he was young.

"I had no wish to come here. Those two flagit were sent here to retrieve the boy. Obviously it was to much to ask of their incompetent hides." His gaze returned to Nameless. Nameless wanted to lower his eyes but kept his gaze steady with the large orc's instead.

"Hmph! The red-eyed demon child. You can't even stand yet can you? But you can see me hu? Very strange that you can see like only a few orc races can yet you seem to weak to accomplish what even human infants can."

Nameless said nothing. Guldug walked over to Nameless and crouched down in front of him. Kaushar tensed were he stood. Nameless forced his body to relax so he would not smell so much of the fear he felt rising in him.

"Hmph." Guldug snorted again. Nameless wanderer if this uruk could be allergic to dust. A uruk with allergies. Before he could stop himself, Nameless smiled at the absurdity of that, Lutz crossing his mind briefly.

Guldug slapped Nameless so hard his head hit the wall again. HARD! He fought to keep the bile in his stomach as his body rushed his blood there in an attempt to save itself from injury.

The pain in his head and the nausea in his belly felt horrible. And now the world was spinning and Nameless felt sure he was going to through up. He could feel his stomach acids burning in his throat adding more pain and increasing the want to just throw up. Nameless would have but the second he decided to just let it happen- everything and everyone else be damned- he fond he couldn't, the bile already retreating back down and Nameless groaned wishing he would throw up.

"Grandspawn -irzi. Dag-irzi." he heard Kaushar say as he was carried out under Guldug's left arm.

* * *

Guldung knocked on the heavy iron door. 

"Who is it?" growled the familiar voice of Shagrat.

"Guldug, Sir. I have 'im!" There was a brief pause in which no one said anything.

"Bring him in and then leave!" Shagrat ordered finally.

Guldug, who held a weak Nameless by his left forearm, jerked the door open and shoved Nameless through, slamming the door quickly behind him as he left.

When Nameless had been shoved through the door he had lost his balance and stumbled. Arms outstretched should he fall, feet moving forward on there on accord, head bent low as a counter balance. His treacherous feet lead him head first into the broad, armored chest of Captain Shagrat.

Shagrat wrapped both arms around him tightly, almost painfully. Shagrat pulled Nameless close to him along his armored body. Nameless gasped when his feet left the ground but did not struggle. His arms were pinned between the two bodies and he had not the strength- or at this moment, the nerve- to give the uruk-hai a well deserved kick in the balls.

Shagrat buried his face in the boys rough, spiky, black hair and inhaled deeply.

'_It just doesn't get any stranger than-' _Shagrat slowly rocked back and forth rubbing his body sensually against the youth in his arms._'-This! This! How did this happen! At what point in time did I ever imply to this monster that THIS was an ok thing to do!...Oh, damn I hope that's his sword...'_

'_Well, in a way, it is...'_

'_Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Do something! Shut up and do something to stop this!'_

"_Mmm...stronger. Alpha. Mate.'_

'_Can he do the things I've done without his army?'_

'_Strong. Protection.'_

'_I'm stronger.'_

'_Weak now.'_

'_I'll heal. How am I going to get out of this?...'_

'_Ride it out...'_

'_Bad images. Bad!'_

'_Might be enjoyable. Not seeing any other options either.'_

'_...'_

'_...!'_

Nameless heard his shirt being torn from his body. He was literally thrown across the room and onto an old, rusted bed that cried and groaned under his weight as if in pain. Surprisingly, Nameless was not hurt in the least. He was very uncomfortable however when the uruk-hai captain lept on top of him, carefully avoiding touching him.

He had a leg and an arm on each side of the boy, supporting his weight fully on them so that his rough, pointed armor was only inches above Nameless's bare torso. Nameless could hear and feel the bed bow under the weight and force of their bodies.

The boy's mind was spinning so fast he felt as if his soul would escape through his eyes.

'_No escape. No soul.'_

While he had been wandering around in his own mind, Shagrat had grabbed both his arms and had chained them to the head bored with a pair of thick, iron manacles he had seemingly pulled out of thin air to the boy's dazed mind, though Shagrat had most likely been hiding them under his pillow. As the uruk-hai was forcing off his trousers, Nameless distracted himself by looking about the room. It was simple. Stones walls, large, bared windows that suggested they were in a tower of sorts but Nameless could only see the dark, choked sky from were he lay. There was little furniture, and it was all dirty, old, and made of iron. A large closet, probably for weapons and armor and things of that sort, a table and desk with some writing supplies, for reports Nameless guessed. And the old, rusted, rod iron bed, with its too soft, over stuffed mattress and dirty, red sheets now crimson with dust and dirt.

Nameless gasped more out of surprise than from the sudden weight when the uruk-hai captain laid himself across the Nameless, this time not concerned about the rough armor that cut and bit into the boy's naked body, and started ravaging as much of the exposed flesh as he was able to.

He felt a cold, slimy tongue lapping at the cuts made by sharp teeth when dry, hard lips pressed into the soft man flesh. Nameless closed his eyes tightly, head thrown back in a unconscious attempt to get away somehow, unaware he had just exposed his neck to his enemy, who attacked it with more vigor than the rest of his body. Teeth scrapping teasingly across his wind pipe, tongue lapping at vital arteries in the neck, playing with the his Adam's apple and the soft skin under his jaw.

Shagrat grabbed the boy's jaw, forcing it open and bringing his head down so the uruk-hai could ravage his mouth the way he had the boy's body. Nameless made a choked sound in the back of his throat but suppressed it. He held his breath, not moving as Shagrat tasted the inside of his mouth, rough tongue mapping out the roof of his mouth, under his tongue, and across his teeth. Bad!

Shgagrat yelped and pulled back, staring down at the boy under him, tasting his own black blood off his tongue. He forced the boy's jaw open and head back, examining the sharp, long canines he found there.

Nameless was still as the uruk-hai captain studied his long, sharp incisors with interest. He seemed fascinated by them and leaned in to examen them with his tongue once again.

Nameless broke the 'kiss', turning his head away but he had already breathed in the foul smelling breath of the Uruk-Hai captain, causing his eyes to water and his nose to tingle and burn. He turned his head to the side trying to breath what passed for fresh air in Mordor, especial after being snogged by a panting, sweaty Uruk-Hai.

Shagrat Licked, bit and sucked at the sensitive arteries in his neck, and at his wind pipe, trailing his way down the boys body before coming back to his throat.

Nameless felt his testicles retreat back so far into his body he thought he might soon become a eunuch. No words were directed towards him, no insults or foul endearments. Only small growls and heavy breathing. Nameless was thankful for this small mercy for if the Urik-Hai captain had tried to talk to him, Nameless knew he would either not answer or say something really stupid, both resulting in a sever beating before a harsh fucking.

It felt like his body was trying to leap out of his skin. He grabbed the chains over each of his hands and pulled, not to get away, but to try to relieve this horrid feeling, as if he could chain his soul to his body by holding on to something tight.

Nameless could feel a strange tingle in his blood when Shagrat got off the bed, coming close to relief but not quite. Fear was still to strongly in him for him to feel relief.

Nameless gasped, trying to catch his breath, feeling slightly cold with the Uruk-Hai gone. Nameless turned his head to the other side to see the Uruk-Hai. Shagrat was undressing, his upper body armor gone, he now struggled irritably with his pant laces, resisting the urge to simple rip the trousers off. Good, sturdy pants were hard to come by in Mordor.

Nameless turned his head back, eyes squeezed shut. He had seen more then enough naked orcs and Uruks to satisfy his curiosity as to their autonomy and how they differed from elves and men and what similarities they shared, since his time here in Mordor. Although fascinating, he never felt the urge to explore further. Briefly he considered taking a peak at the Captain's '_assets_', just to give himself an idea as to what to expect from his would-be-rapist, and almost did, but lost his nerve and decided to just keep his eyes shut the whole time if Shagrat was willing to let him.

He stared up at the ceiling. The room was so dark that when he looked up he felt like he was looking into an endless blackness, even though logically he knew that there was a hard, stone ceiling above him only a couple feet or so away. His mind wandered back to the Easterling Ryou who, in the great mess hall, packed with Orcs and Uruks irritated with the noise and close proximity of other soldiers in the room, had asked him the question that more people wander about then they would admit; "what's it like to get fucked by a Uruk-Hai?"

That one question had started one of the largest, messiest, best brawl in the young boy's life, and would further embed the wedge between Nameless and the Easterlings. In mere moments the entire hall went from uproarious laughter to the most exhilarating brawls Nameless had ever participated in. He didn't know when or how the transformation from ill humor to life threatening quarrel had happened, but it happened fast and hard. He had walked in with Burk, as usual, and the tall orc had stayed with him through out the entire fight.

It was the first time he had Seen Lut in action, not just on the training field. The sight had turned his blood cold, starting from his feet to his stomach. Nameless had always been on the scrawny side, and thus had grown accustomed to larger brutes and no longer feared them. But the sight of his large comrade, who towered even over his fellow Uruk-Hai, as he cut through the mob, throwing and breaking bodies in his hands as though they were dolls, snarling, roaring, the scent of blood lighting a fire in Lut's golden eyes was an image that had burned itself into Nameless's mind. Even in that frenzy of hot blood and screams, Lut had remained loyal to his comrades, cutting a path through the mob over to Burk and Nameless, like a large dog. Sometimes vicious, sometimes playful. But always loyal. The smile he had shared with Burk and Nameless said as much, and he and Burk had returned the smile; Burk adding his cautious reminding smirk to it and Nameless his own cocky sneer.

It was the first time he had ever seen Drum in a fight as well. He had never even heard, let alone seen an orc behave so calmly, so collectively, in a fight. But Nameless could see in his fast breathing and glowing gold eyes that he to was thrilled with the skirmish. Drum had passed through the crowed with ease, making his way over to Nameless. He wove around orcs and Uruks already occupied in their own fight and made short work of those who sought him out in ill will. Dancing around them and sliding one of his long knives into a vital area in the neck, back, stomach, or any place were the armor was weak. He fought with deadly, smooth accuracy and Nameless made a mental note to never do anything to put him at odds with the Moria Orc(s). There were few people in this world that Nameless made a true effort to stay on good terms with, and Drum had become one of them on that night. Just the memory of that night still made him smile. It felt nice, being in a brawl with no great meaning, his comrades by his side, and at his back, watching over him as Nameless found himself unconsciously doing for them. It had felt nice. Very nice.

Nameless felt his heart jump when someone knocked on the door. Only just then did he feel embarrassed about being chained to a bed by a Uruk-Hai that intended to rape him. Until then fear, disgust, and worry had been running ramped in his veins. Now he was becoming very self conscience. Silently he prayed to deities unknown that who ever was at that door would not lean in and see him chained naked to the captain's bed. The fact that all of Mordor may know he was in here, and what was happening to him, did not even enter his mind.

Growling and cursing in his black speech, captain Shagrat left his pant strings half unlaced, and walked to the door, not bothering to put on more clothing or armor. He did however pick up a wicked looking dirk before answering the door.

"What is it?" Shagrat growled.

"Pizdur Shagrat-"

Nameless could not hear all of what was said. He was scared and embarrassed. His heart pounded in his chest, causing his breath to quicken and making it difficult for him to hear the muttered and low growled words.

"Now!" Shagrat growled more loudly.

"Akhoth. Now. It was-"

Nameless slammed his head back onto the ratty bed, eyes shut in silent prayer. No such thing as an atheist in a fox hole. _'Yes! Oh please yes! Leave! Go now. Make him leave now. Just go!'_

Shagrat growled and the sound sent a shiver down Nameless's spine. "Fine! I'll be there in a moment."

"Yes S-" Shagrat slammed the door in the orc's face. A small yelp was herd on the other side.

Shagrat stomped around the room. He seemed to be thinking about something.

'_What are you doing? Just go already!'_

Nameless laid back on the bed and started to relaxed. After the intense strain on his nerves, the ragged bed seemed like heaven. It looked like he would be here for awhile so he settled down for the wait. Just as he was starting to get comfortable, Shagrat seemed to make up his mind. He was back in his armor and had his weapons strapped about his waist. He sat on the bed near Nameless and starred at him. Nameless starred back for awhile before growing tired. Since Shagrat didn't seem to want anything at the moment he tilted his head to the side intent on relaxing.

Shagrat grabbed him by his neck and forced his head back to meet the Uruk-Hai's gaze. The touch alone made his blood rush to his stomach.

Shagrat's grip was firm but not cruel. After awhile he started to slowly rube the boy's neck before moving his hand up to pet his wild, thick black hair, obviously expecting him to keep his head were it was. Shagrat continued to pet him and had the situation been different, Nameless might have actually enjoyed it.

Shagrat sighed and let go of the boys hair. He then had a stern look on his face when he moved to strattle the boy's hips. The boy's testicles, which had finally begun to relax, withdrew painfully back into his body. Nameless winced, eyes shutting, and Shagrat grabbed his jaw in his massive gloved hand again and forced the boy to look at him.

"Listen to me. Are you listening?" Shagrat said, his voice low but firm. Yet it did not sound menacing. This confused Nameless. Nameless nodding his head the best he could in the strong grip of the Uruk-Hai.

"Good. I'm going to unchain you from my bed. You will dress and then you will be cuffed with your hands in front of you. Understand?" Shagrat asked again. Nameless nodded.

"Good" Shagrat said while petting the boy's hair. He then reach up to the boys hands and unlocked each of them. Nameless sat patiently on the bed as the Uruk-Hai did the same to his ankles. Nameless got up and caught his clothes as they were tossed to him. His shirt was unsaveable and his already loose trousers were to torn up top. With a sigh and a glance to Shagrat, who was watching him, manacles in hand, waiting patiently, Nameless tore a long strip out of his shirt and used it to tie his pants to his waist. Not sure what to do with the rest of the shirt, he tore it into more pieces and rapped them around his hands and feet. When he was done, he stood straight and starred at the Uruk that only moments before had intended, possibly still did, to rape him. At this point a kind of emotional numbness had started to set in. He couldn't wait to get back to his cell. Kaushar be damned!

Shagrat stepped forward and placed the manacles on each of the boys wrist. Nameless just starred ahead as they were placed on each of his wrist. Shagrat placed a hand on the back of the boys neck and rubbed. They stood there awhile, Nameless becoming nervus with the captains constant petting. Finally, he picked the boy up, placing one hand under the boy's legs, an another behind his back, keeping Nameless close to his chest.

Nameless blushed as embarrassment and self consciousness took the lead once again. But he did not protest. Words seemed to take up to much effort at the moment. But he did not relax.

Shagrat carried the boy in his arms like a precious, porclin doll, down dark stone corridors heading down, up, left, right, Nameless soon lost track of where it was they were. He was going to his cell, of that he was sure.

_EEENNNKKKK! WRONG!_

Shagrat stopped in front of his cell door and placed Nameless back down on his feet. When Nameless looked up his first thought, off the top of his head, totally unfiltered was _'Huh?'_

This was not his cell! This was not the dudgeons! This was way to nice for that.

The hallway was well lit and the door in front of them was painted blue. The words **_Nulum Gakh_** were painted in white. Apparently there were no orckish words for infirmary.

Shagrat griped his left forearm and led him into the infirmary. By now the emotional and mental strain had manifested into a physical strain on his already weak body. Things became blurry in his mind's eye.

Humans and orcs assigned to the medical ward removed what remained of his clothing. He was in a soft, white bed. The room was cold but the bed was warm. A hot coal pan had been placed under the bed, but Nameless didn't notice. He was exhausted.

Shagrat was standing near by. Nameless felt him more then saw him. He recognized the smell. That wild, dirty, bestial smell. The smell put a coppery taste in his mouth. A dip in the bed; a hand in his hair. It seemed gentle, calming. When he closed his eyes he saw red. Dead bodies. With banners. Shagrat was whispering something to him in his native orc tongue. There was to much noise. Fuck! Just shut up already! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!...

"Fuck you..." He whispered. He curled into the blankets and away from the hand that had been petting him. He was asleep almost instantly.

**TBC...**

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_LOL! Dear God, I laugh at my own crap!_

_You know, I was going for Tolkien/Steven King and ended up with Tolkien/Anne Rice!_

_This was my first time using the black speach really. I was just messing with it, see if I like it. Not sure ifI do yet._

_Aw man. Well, I enjoyed writing it. Screw everyone else. There 've been worse._

_Do you know that this thing is 13 pages long? No, of course not._

_No sorry that's 14 pages after this A/N._

_God, I'm not even half done with this yet. The story doesn't even really get goin' till he gets to Isengard. Oh well. You see, this is why I started other stories without finishing this one. This thing is just taking to long. Well, like they say, "Nowhere to go, and all the time in the world to get there."_

_DRACO: Who are 'They'?_

_SNEERE: The same people who say, "No, it doesn't show."_

_Raven, if your reading this then you've got more balls than I thought you did. You're also a pervert. _

_Peace out ya'll_

_-**Sneere**_

**_Tue., June 21, 2005_**


End file.
